How Can U Smile With All Those Tears In Ur Eyes
by Pups Paws
Summary: A Wee!Chesters fanfic. Inspire by Everclear's Wonderful.Sam 8 gets sick, and Dean 12 has to deal with it, thats hard for a hormonal 12 year old whose fighting with his father. UPDATE! HAPPY DANCE!
1. Chapter 1

_**How Can You Smile With all those Tears in your Eyes?**_

'_Promises mean everything when you're little and the world is so big'_

_**Everclear; Wonderful**_

Dean sighed as he looked at the thermometer.

Yeah; the little tyke had spiked a nasty fever.

Instead of being 96.8, he was 99.3.

He looked down at his little 8 year old kid brother with a sympathetic smile.

"How you feeling?" Dean asked.

Sammy coughed and whimpered.

"Hurts" he said softly.

"Yeah….I know it does. The Flu does that. But you'll get better." Dean said trying to reassure his brother.

Sammy sniffed and looked up at his brother with big round eyes.

"Can I go to school?" he asked, hopefully.

Dean frowned and laughed. Little odd.

"Not if you wanna infect all the others in the class. You stay in bed kiddo. Until it all goes away" Dean said.

This time Sam moaned and squirmed under the covers.

He wanted so badly to go and see his friends; Lucy, Toby and Kody.

"But I don't wanna stay here" Sam whined.

"You'll have to. Or you'll get sicker and sicker. And that is not about to happen. Not While I'm on duty. Now go to sleep." Dean said as he got up.

Sam pouted; it wasn't fair. He wanted to go to school. He wanted to have fun. Not stay in bed and sleep like Dean had told him to do.

"But" Sam began.

Dean's reprimanding look stopped any further protests and Sam shrank back under the covers.

The moment was broken by heavy footsteps from the hallway and a knock at the door. Both boys looked up and saw their father standing in the doorway.

"Hey boys…. I talk to you outside please?" John asked.

Dean nodded obediently.

"Don't move Sammy" Dean said as he left. The door closed behind him and Sam muttered angrily to himself.

His throat was itchy, but not too bad. Mostly his limbs ached. Like he'd been running around for days. But he hadn't.

Dean had said the Flu….what was the Flu.

Was it when you go to sleep and then get up and run around until you get so tired, your body aches?

Or was it when something starts growing in your tummy?

Sam remembered that from a movie. He'd come downstairs, it had been real late. But he'd had a nightmare and Dean had been asleep. So Sam went to get his father. He'd come down to see the little snake with arms and legs and really sharp teeth jump out and start attacking people. At that point Daddy had come and picked him up, muttering that it wasn't a movie for little kids.

Must have been a conspiracy; that the parents wouldn't tell their kids about this….Flu. Because they were aliens too.

Sam smiled at his conclusion. It was intelligent and well thought out. Couldn't be wrong.

But when it occurred to him that the little snaky monster thing would bust outta his stomach. That might really hurt.

Sam pulled up his shirt and cast a wary glance at his flat little stomach. He inspected it closely, as if the monster would jump out at any second.

But his quiet inspection was interrupted with a sudden burst of yelling outside. Sam looked up at the closed door to hear his brother start yelling at his father.

Dean had become strangely rebellious of late. He and Dad fought often. They were always yelling or snapping at each other, or telling Sammy about how bad the other had become.

It was stressful on the little boy, he had to deal with bullies at school and bullies at home. At times, both Daddy and Dean were bullies to each other and Sam had to listen.

There was another roar from their father and Sam felt tears prick the backs of his eyes.

He hated it when they fought, when they screamed. It made him wanna cry.

He closed his eyes and decided to count to 10, taking deep breaths as he counted.

As the screaming got louder, Sam stuck his fingers in his ears and counted louder in his head.

When he got to 10, he opened his eyes and unblocked his ears. The screaming had stopped.

But he could feel the tension in the air still. As tears began to leak from his little eyes, Sam began to wish that he had everything Dean had when he was 4.

He had a mother, a father, toys, a room, laughter and got along well with his family. A good life.

Sam didn't have a good life. He had a father but no mother, he didn't have a room, didn't even have a house, he didn't laugh very often, and didn't get along with his family.

In fact, Sam hated his life. He often just closed his eyes and wished that he had a good life. That Mom was still around, that Dean and him were best friends. And Daddy wasn't so angry all that time. But it was pretend and the sting of reality would never leave him alone for more than 5 minutes.

Suddenly the door opened and Dean walked in. He looked angry and upset.

"Sammy, get up." He demanded.

Sam looked up at dean with an innocent eye, only to have a glare cast back at him.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked.

"Away" Dean snapped.

"To school?"

"No"

"Where?"

"Just away Sam. Now get up!"

"But I'm sick"

"GET UP!" Dean roared.

Sam couldn't stop the instant flow of tears that ran from his eyes. He hated it when Dean yelled at him. What did he do. Did he ask too many questions. Just shut up Sam. Just do what he says. He won't lead you wrong.

Sam sobbed silently as he kicked the covers off. He could feel his 12 year old brother staring at him.

Dean wasn't glaring anymore, he looked upset.

"Don't cry Sammy" he said suddenly.

Kneeling down, he reached out to Sam but Sam pulled away. Afraid that he might do something wrong. Afraid that he might get yelled at again.

Dean looked hurt by this action and scooted closer to him.

"Its okay" he said.

"Then why'd you yell at me?" Sam whimpered.

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Cause I'm tired. I know you didn't deserve it. But I'm tired and we have to leave." Dean said.

Sam was just about to ask why, but he shut his mouth and nodded. Being inquisitive had its bad side.

"Dad wants to leave. So we have to go too. I'll pack your stuff. You just stay warm and get out to the car as quick as you can alright?" Dean said softly again reaching for Sam.

This time Sam reached out for Dean and latched onto his brother's shirt. He buried his sore head in his brother's chest and sobbed.

He felt so sick and he didn't want to leave. He just wanted to sleep. The little escapade had made him very tired.

"M'tired Dean….I wanna sleep" he whispered.

Dean chuckled.

"Yeah the Flu will do that to ya tyke….now I want you to take that blanket from the bag" Dean began.

"Woobie?" Sam asked.

He loved that blanket to death, had once upon a long time ago been Dean's but the eldest had tried to throw it away. So Sam took it, renamed it and had kept it with him ever since.

Dean gave a sigh and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah…Woobie. Take it and wrap it around yourself. I'll get some pillows and we can camp out in the backseat. Kay?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded slightly.

The car was freezing, and Woobie was doing his very best to keep Sam warm, but it wasn't really working. The pillows beneath his head were soft and invited sleep, but his head hurt too much and he was too stuffed up. If he fell asleep he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to breath.

He gave another whimper and curled up tighter.

"Get some sleep kiddo. You're exhausted" Dean said softly.

His cool hand slid under his hair and onto his forehead. It felt so good against the heat that was radiating from him.

"Can't….too sick" Sam whispered, his throat constricting painfully. It had gotten worse as the sun went down. Now Sam felt as if he could just die. That little snaky monster thing was having the time of its life.

Dean slipped his arms around Sam's small body and dragged the bundle up onto his lap.

"Uh….you're getting hotter. You really should rest Sammy. You need it. It'll help fight off the Flu" Dean said.

Sam sniffled again and coughed. He buried himself in the folds of Dean's shirt and sobbed.

"I hate it" he muttered.

"It's alright Tyke. Just relax….you're with me. You'll be alright" Dean soothed.

They stayed in silence for a little while.

Before Dean looked up.

"We should get him to a doctor" Dean said.

John simply hummed slightly from the front seat, and said nothing more.

Dean scowled and gripped Sam a little tighter.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked.

"Cause I think that we should keep driving. Sammy will be fine. He's probably faking it anyway" John sighed.

Dean looked down at Sam and Sam shook his head.

"M'not faking….hurts….everything hurts….Dee-Dee….make it stop" Sam whimpered from his shirt.

"Dad…he's really sick….really…really sick. We have to get him help. He's so sick….Dad…please" Dean said softly.

He kept a hand on his little brother's forehead, trying to calm the sobs that shuddered from Sam's little body.

"Dean…we are not stopping. Just drop it" John snapped.  
"No! Dad, this is Sammy. He's sick and all you care about is the stupid hunt!! Just drop us off at Pastor Jim's….or Bobby's" Dean said.

John growled under his breath.

"That was the plan" John snapped as he turned a corner that lead into Texas.

Bobby opened the door as the black Impala roared up onto the gravel. He'd heard that they were coming, and that there was something that John needed to take care of and the boys were getting a little hard to handle.

The door opened and John stepped out. He looked pretty angry. Figures that he had just had a fight with Dean again. It was early teen years and it was a natural scheme of things. John opened the boot and grabbed the boy's bags.

The back door suddenly opened and Dean came out, carrying a small bundle of blankets and pillows. He looked closely to see it was Sam.

What the hell had happened? He walked over to Dean and knelt down.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Sammy's really sick….Dad won't take us to a doctors" Dean muttered, staring down at the shivering bundle.

Bobby peeled back a few folds of blankets to see Sammy.

The little boy was pale and had dark smudges under his eyes, he was slick with sweat too.

"God….what's he got?" Bobby asked.

"I dunno….I thought it was the Flu but he is a little too sick for that. He says everything hurts….especially his neck. Bobby…I dunno what to do with him. He says its so cold but he's burning up." Dean said softly.

Bobby nodded.

"We'll call a doctor when he leaves….alright?" he asked.

Dean looked up and smiled, gratefully.

He didn't say anything; didn't have to. He just lugged Sam a little higher up onto his chest and walked inside.

He settled Sammy into bed, very gently; almost as if he was afraid of hurting him.

Sammy did moan slightly, but out of Flu induced pain.

"It's alright Sam. You're alright now" he muttered.

Sam grabbed onto Dean's shirt and sobbed.

"Don't go….please Dee-Dee" he begged.

Gently disengaging himself, Dean knelt by him and put a cool hand on his forehead. It quickly became hot and he grimaced at this fever that wouldn't break.

"You need your rest Sammy. Just relax. I won't be far. Just call and I'll come running" Dean said softly.

He waited until Sam showed some sign of acceptance. The only thing he got was another sob and Sammy's little body relaxed. It was good enough.

"Good. I'll see you later Sammy. Just call if you need me" Dean said and got to his feet.

"Don't be far" Sammy whispered.

"Sure….night Sammy" Dean muttered as he closed the door.

Bobby stood outside, a sad look on his face. It was obvious that he was worried too.

"He's resting….but Bobby….he's so hot, I'm afraid that he might be too hot….and might start seizing" Dean muttered.

"Don't worry Dean. There's a doctor on his way. I told him it was an emergency. So he's coming Dean. Just be calm" Bobby said softly.

Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his head worriedly.

"I can't stand to see him suffering. I can't stand to see him this sick" Dean said softy

Bobby nodded sympathetically and led the distraught older brother down stairs.

It was very quiet and very dark, but Sam couldn't sleep. He felt too hot, too cold, too sore and too stuffed up. It was beyond agonizing, beyond annoying. With another frustrated sob, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the roof. His eyes tracing the network of cracks that ruptured the ancient peeling paint.

His mind began to wander, wander to why Dean and Dad were fighting so much.

His friend Kody's parents had split up because they had been fighting too much.

That they didn't love each other anymore, so they moved away from each other. Kicked each other out of the house.

A chill ran up Sam's spine as he realized that maybe that might happen to Dean and Daddy.

Could a son and a father get a….a….diborse?

If a Mommy and Daddy could…then anyone could.

Sam let out a little groan as he thought about what might happen. What if Daddy and Dean moved away from each other. What would happen to Sam? Would they fight so much that they would run so far away that Sam couldn't see them anymore? That thought was scary, that thought made Sam quiver with fear.

It would be too much if Dean moved away, Sammy wouldn't be able to take it. He just knew that he would be made to go with his father. But Dean was the one that looked after Sam, and not Dad? So what would happen? Sam was only little. He wouldn't be able to cook any hot food. He would have to feed himself, go to sleep alone, walk home from school alone, read to himself, go to the park by himself.

NO!

No, no, no, no, no.

They would not get a diborse! Sam wouldn't let them. Sam would make them stay together.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Dean would stay where he was, he would stay right with Sammy. And NOT go away. Never go away.

But right now….Dean was away. Sudden and desperate loneliness over came the small boy and he sat bolt upright. He needed Dee-Dee, and need him now.

Sam got out of bed, in a hurry. He opened the door and scampered down the hallway.

"Dee!! Dee-Dee!!!" Sammy screamed at the top of his little voice.

Within seconds Dean was at the foot of the stairs, looking up. A worried look was plastered on his face.

"Sammy….what's the matter" he asked.

Sam didn't say anything, he began to run down the stairs instead.

But he was wearing his jeans still and they were too long for him.

So the inevitable happened and Sammy tripped. He fell forwards, head about to collide with the stairs, just before Dean lunged and grabbed his little brother; he instead hit the stairs.

It pushed the air from his lungs, but he was alright. Which would have been more than he could say if Sammy had fallen. Sam turned in his brother's arms and grabbed onto him and clung there, sobbing and hiccupping.

"Sammy? What are you doing out of bed?" Dean panted as he sat up.

He found his little brother hanging onto him and wrapped his arms under Sam's legs to hold him there while he stood up. He began to head up the stairs, wondering why Sammy was crying so hysterically. The Flu didn't hurt that much….did it? Dean couldn't remember. He never had the Flu, always had his Flu shot. The same was still true, even though he payed for it himself now. He still got them. Sammy didn't, was too afraid of the scary needle.

He got Sam back to the cool bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. But Sam didn't let him go, he still had his shaggy little head buried in his shoulder, his little body shuddering with sobs.

"Sammy….you gotta let me go" he said softly, but the words made Sam cling tighter.

The 8 year old was terrified of something. Dean decided that the best way to get Sam to rest would be to sort out this problem, he hated seeing Sam so upset and scared.

"Calm down Sam. What's the matter? Are you hungry? Are you hurting? Tired? Sick?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head and wrapped himself around Dean further. It wasn't the least bit annoying, it was a little worrying though.

"Then why are you crying so much?" Dean asked.

Sam pulled back slightly, his little head moving close to Dean's ear.

"I don't want you and Daddy to get a diborse" he whispered tearily.

Diborse? What the hell was a diborse.

"What to you mean? Diborse? What's that?" Dean asked.

"When….when….when you move away…from each other…." Sam hiccupped.

"Divorce? Me and Dad to get a divorce?" Dean asked.

Sam whimpered and buried his head in Dean's shoulder again, the sobbing returned.

Dean suddenly chuckled and shook his head. He rubbed his brother's back, making smooth circles with his hand.

"Sammy. It's alright. Me and Dad aren't going to get a divorce; we can't" Dean said still laughing.

"But….but you've been fighting so much" Sam muttered.

"Yeah…but only married people can get a divorce. Me and Dad can't get a divorce. We wouldn't anyway. Even though we fight….we still love each other. It's fights over stupid things Sammy. It's not that we don't love each other, it's just we don't agree on everything…." Dean soothed.

Sam finally pulled back from his brother's shoulder, tears still rolling down his small face, nose running. He sniffed and fisted Dean's shirt again.

"So…you aren't going to leave me? You are still going to cook me dinner? Still will walk home with me? Still read to me? Go to the park with me?" Sam asked.

Dean smiled and pulled a tissue form his pocket. He wiped his little brother's nose with a quick yet gentle flick of the wrist.

"I'm still gonna cook you dinner, still gonna walk you home, still gonna read to you, still gonna go to the park together. I'm not going anywhere, not anytime soon." Dean said softly.

He then wiped Sammy's eyes for him and rested his forehead against his baby brother's heated one.

"Okay with you?" he asked.

"Very okay with me" Sam whimpered and hugged his big brother.

Dean gave him a squeeze and hummed to himself.

"Better get into bed squirt. Doctor's coming to have a rattle around in that empty skull of yours. See what's got you going" Dean said.

"My skull is not empty! My skull is full of brains" Sammy protested.

"And goo"

"No! Just brains"

"And goo"

"Brains!"

"Don't forget the goo"

"No goo! Just brains!"

"And brains"

"No!! Just goo!"

Dean smiled to himself as his little brother realized that he'd been tricked.

"Hey! No goo! Just brains" Sammy said, anger lacing his words.

Dean wasn't concerned with that from Sam, a simple nod and smile erased Sam's anger.

"Alright, just brains" Dean said softly.

Sam then yawned, massively and tiredly. Tears were in his eyes when he looked back at Dean.

"Now its really time for bed. Get in there and under the covers" Dean said as he lifted the covers for his brother.

Sam crawled off Dean and under the covers, resting his head on the pillow. He smiled wearily at Dean, a smile that seemed to be years older than he was. Wise and thankful.

"Thanks Dee-Dee" he yawned again.

Dean poked his little nose and smiled.

"Any time kiddo. This time, I'll be closer than close. I'll be in the next room. The doctor will be in soon and I'll come back then. But for now….you close your eyes and rest." Dean ordered gently.

Sammy closed his eyes on cue and sighed. Dean got to his feet and headed for the door for the second time in 20 minutes. But a quiet call stopped him.

"Dee-Dee?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Could…you…just stay here….until I go to sleep…please?"

Dean sighed, mock exasperation dripping from his voice.

"Alright….I'll stay. Just because its you. But you owe me Sammy" Dean said.

"I'll give you anything…..anything….Dee-Dee….my next ice-cream?" he asked.

"I buy them for you anyway! I just want you to go to sleep. Get a little bit of rest. You're still ill." Dean said as he sat down.

Silence fell and it wasn't long before the unmistakeable sound of Sammy's soft snores filled the room. Dean smiled to himself and brushed Sam's hair out of his eyes, he knew that he could leave. But….why? It was so rare that Sammy looked un-troubled. He had problems at school, bullies and prying teachers. Fights with his playmates, had his lunch money stolen, fell over, got low test results, spilt paint all over himself. Dean hated being in a school that Sammy wasn't in. Not until another 4 years at the least. Sammy would have to be on his own for a little while. Even though whenever Dean got lunch or had a free period, or was jigging; he would come and see Sammy. Sneak up to the window, walk into the playground, sneak up on him in the cafeteria. His friends had become accustom to Dean showing up and had become accustom with the teenager and his protectiveness over Sam.

These thoughts kept Dean by his sick little brother until there was a knock at the door.

Dean was startled by the sudden noise. He cursed himself for letting someone sneak up on him. He got to his feet and walked over to the door and opened it slowly. It was Bobby.

"Hey Deuce. What's up?" he asked.

Dean smiled and glanced at the sleeping form of his baby brother.

"Yeah…he's alright. Just had a little scare. His imagination runs away with him a bit" Dean said.

"Is he alright now?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, he's alright, he's finally asleep. Has been for maybe 10 minutes" Dean said.

Bobby nodded and looked at Sam with a relieved look on his face.

"Well the doc is almost here. He said that he wants to be alone with Sam for a little while. To test him for different diseases. Just in case" Bobby said.

"Good. Just in case. But Sammy won't wanna be alone….truth be known. I don't wanna leave him alone." Dean said.

"You're gonna have to. He's gonna need silence for this." Bobby said.

With a sigh, Dean shrugged.  
"Maybe…but if I hear one scream from him. I'll be in there and I'll not be leaving" Dean warned.

Bobby nodded and motioned for him to come downstairs, but Dean shook his head.

"No…I'm gonna stay up here, if Sam needs me. I don't want to see him cracking his head on the stairs. I think that might be a little worse on him" Dean said with a small laugh.

The old hunter laughed and sighed.

"Alright. Whatever Deuce. I'll be downstairs if you need me. Just call" Bobby said and disappeared down the stairs.

Dean sighed and walked into his own room, right next to Sam's.

By the time the doctor actually got to the Singer's Auto-Yard, Dean could have sworn that he'd taken twice as long as he was meant to. Dean opened his door when he heard the footsteps on the landing. He looked up to see a kindly looking doctor, at the very most 30 years old. He smiled at Dean.

"You must be the older brother….Dean?" he asked.

Cautious as ever Dean nodded and shook the doctor's outstretched hand.

"Yeah….you gonna help Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, that's my job. I would like you to tell me what his symptoms are. Help me out…you know" the doctor said.

Dean frowned and nodded slightly. Any excuse to be with Sammy would do. So they walked into the dark room and the doctor approached Sam's bed. The little kid was curled up in a tight ball, sweat making his face shine. He hadn't been that hot when Dean left him. He felt a little worried. He walked over to Sam and knelt, putting a hand on his little brother's shoulder.  
"Sam? Sammy wake up on" Dean said softly.

Sam moaned and rolled onto his back, his eyes cracking open slightly.

"Dee?" he whispered.

Dean nodded and smiled slightly.

"Yeah it's me kiddo. How are you feeling?" Dean asked.

Sammy coughed pitifully and blinked slowly.

"Worse" he muttered.

"Alright, I have some good news. The doctor is finally here. He's gonna check you over. Make sure you're okay" Dean said warning his little brother of the oncoming inspection.

Whether or not Sam understood was another matter; Sam only nodded and said nothing.

Dean then took his leave and stepped away as the doctor took his place.

"Hey there Sam. I'm Doctor Jones. I'm gonna have a look at you. See what's wrong. Is that alright?" the doctor asked.

Sam rolled onto his side and sighed.

"Dean" he whispered.

The doctor frowned and put a hand on his forehead. He tutted gently as he felt the heat.

Dean stood in the corner of the dark room, watching like a hawk, staying silent as he could. Even his breathing seemed to be silent. If Sam had been coherent enough, he would have asked if his brother was still breathing. It was that quiet. But no matter what happened, Dean stood there with his arms folded across his chest, staring warily at what the doctor did to his little brother.

He took his pulse, blood pressure, temperature, listened to him breathe, had a look down his throat, looked in his eyes and nose and ears. Standard things. Things that didn't cause too much suspicion from Dean.

The doctor finally sat back, taking a deep breath. He looked at Dean and nodded to outside. The eldest took the hint and followed the doctor outside, to where Bobby was waiting.

"Well, Sam is one sick little boy. Very sick." Jones said.

Dean tensed slightly as the words came from his mouth. He was afraid of what he had, but he life threatening.

"What's he got?" he asked.

The doctor looked down at Dean and smiled slightly, knowingly almost. It made Dean a little irritated.

"At this point, I'm not really sure. Could be a bad case of the be something much nastier. To be sure, I need a sample of Sam's blood. Take it down for testing. Is that alright?" he asked.

"Yeah" Bobby said.

"No" Dean said.

Jones looked at them, a confused look on his face.

"Erm" he muttered.

"Sammy doesn't like needles and I don't want anything in him." Dean said.

"Deuce….it's alright. Take some blood" Bobby said.

"No it's not! Sammy doesn't want needles, and neither do I. No….the answer is no" Dean said.

"Dean! Stop it! Do you want Sammy to get better?" Bobby asked, angry for the first time in a long time.

"Yeah!" Dean said as if it was obvious.

"Then they need to figure out what he has! So take some blood." Bobby said.

Dean couldn't argue with that, but he wanted to. He hated seeing something occur that Sam hated. But this time, it was for the best regardless of what Sam wanted or Dean wanted.

He nodded with an angry sigh. Jones knew that he was upset about this.

"Hey…don't worry about it kid. How about you come in and help me with it" Jones asked.

Dean gave him a sharp look.

"I intended on doing just that. Not for your benefit, but for Sam's" Dean said and walked inside.

Bobby sighed and Jones followed the hormonal 12 year old.

Dean walked over and sat on Sam's bed, taking his hot little hand.

"Sammy?" he asked.

Sam's eyes flew open and he stared at Dean with sudden clarity.

"Hey Dean…." He muttered.

"Hey there Sammy. Look, the doctor has to take some blood. You're gonna have to have a needle" Dean said, his eyes on his brother's.

Sweat glistened on his brother's forehead as a sign of the fever that was having the time of its life in Sam.

"Okay Dee-Dee. you read me a story?" Sam asked.

Dean looked up at the doctor, confused. The doctor sighed.

"He's delirious Dean. He'll be alright." The doctor said softly.

Sam's eyes slid closed as the doctor began to prepare the needle. Dean stared at the sharp point of the instrument with obvious disdain.

Even though Sammy didn't wince or make a noise as the needle slipped into his skin, Dean winced.

He squeezed his brother's hand harder and muttered to himself.

"He'll be okay. He'll be okay"

Crimson filled the tube and the needle came out quickly. He put a cotton ball over the hole and taped it down after holding the small cotton ball there a few minutes.

"Done" he said with some sort of happiness.

It made Dean scowl. How could he draw happiness out of the suffering of another? Especially if that another was Sammy.

"I'll call you as soon as the results are back in. Okay?" the doctor said.

"Fine" he said.

Like there was anything he could say other than that. Dean didn't move from where he was, he let the doctor go outside, he heard the doctor talking quietly to Bobby and then they headed downstairs. Slowly he turned to Sam, and stared at his pale face with some measure of anger. Why did everything happen to Sam, why did he have to be a magnet for everything bad and painful. It was annoying and it always hurt.

"Hey….Brother?" Dean said softly.

Sam opened his eyes again, a faint smile on his face.

"Dee-Dee" he muttered.

Dean frowned as he heard the soft voice, it was hard to accept that his brother was so hot that he had no idea what was happening now. It was fear inducing.

"Sam. Do you know what just happened?" Dean asked.

Sam thought about it, a dreamy look in his eyes. It wasn't very long before he shook his head.

"Nu-uh. I came home from school and you read me a story?" he asked.

Dean shook his head, wondering why his eyes were stinging so badly.

"No Sam." He sighed and got to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"To get something to lower this fever. I can't stand seeing you like this." Dean said softly.


	2. Chapter 2

Night came; the first night that they were at Bobby's was the least eventful.

Sam was getting his rest, like a good little boy. He wasn't too hot, seeing as Dean had managed somehow to break the fever for a little while. The eldest was dozing in a chair in front of the TV. Bobby was sitting there, watching the TV constantly checking on Dean whenever he felt he should.

The 12 year old suddenly moaned as he squirmed in the chair, his eyes cracking open.

"Bobby?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm here Deuce" Bobby said softly.

"How's Sam?" he asked.

"Fine, asleep last I checked on him. He's still cooler than before." Bobby reported.

Dean nodded and pushed himself upright in his chair, stretching.

"Hey….go back to sleep." Bobby said.

Dean snorted and shook his head.  
"Nah….I'm alright. Got a bit of sleep. All I needed. I think I'm gonna check on Sam" Dean said.

"You are only 12….you know. That's not old Dean. You're still a kid. Barely even a teenager." Bobby said suddenly.

Dean looked up, his eyes dark.

"Yeah….so?" he asked.

It was pointless to argue with him over looking after Sam. He'd done it since he was 4 years old and seemed to know Sam better than Dean knew himself. Bobby knew Dean better than he knew Sam, but he still felt more than fond of Sam. That kind had an irresistible charm about him. Dean was more of a hunter, you could see it in his eyes. The coldness that came with the life. It had been an early imprint of the child, had been taught a long time ago that other people mattered more than his life, but Sam's life mattered more than anything. So it was heartbreaking to see him so messed up when Sam was simply sick. With what was a mystery, but sick none the less. Sammy wasn't hurt, and there were no wounds to stitch up. Dean could only bring him whatever he asked for and tell him that he'd get better and everything would be alright. That wasn't a whole lot; no where near enough for the person that really did make everything better. This time, Sam was on his own. He had to fight this thing off without any help. It sent Dean mad, that Bobby could see.

"Never mind…just. You still need to rest." Bobby sighed.

Dean nodded, muttering something to himself as he walked up the stairs.

Bobby sighed and shook his head, wondering how that boy could cope without a single thought for himself on a good day.

But his thoughts were interrupted by the trill of the phone. He got to his feet and walked over to the phone before picking it up.

"Singer Auto-Yard" Bobby said.

"Bobby. It's John" The father of the two boys had finally called.

"John…I was wondering when you'd call. What's going on?" Bobby asked.

He heard John sigh, but let it go.

"The hunts alright. I just called to see how my boys were." John said.

"Well, Sam's getting worse. We got a doctor in here and he took some blood. Didn't know what was wrong so….but….you know. Sam's fever has come down, after some miracle work" Bobby said.

"By the doctor?"

"No. By Dean. That kid has been non-stop around his brother. Just does what ever the kids tells him too. Sam almost fell down the stairs, Dean threw himself at Sam to stop it. Saw the whole thing. Coulda broken a rib, but didn't hesitate." Bobby said.

John grunted over the phone. He didn't say too much, but Bobby could tell he was very proud of Dean and what he'd instilled in his oldest son.

"Yeah….it's his job." He muttered and then sighed.

"Hows the hunt?" Bobby asked.

"Fine, just fine. Almost got the Black Dog. Give me another day or two. It'll be alright. Then I'll come and pick the boys up and find another hunt" John said.

Bobby hissed, a little worried about Sammy's health.

"John, Sammy's still hasn't reached the worst of this cold. He's getting sicker and sicker. It might be best if you left him here for a few more days. Until he's better." Bobby said.

"I'll think about it. But right now, I gotta go Bobby. I'll call you later" John said.

"Kay. See you John" Bobby said and hung up.

He gently put the phone back on the hook and sighed. Stubborn bastard; but a caring bastard none the less.

Slowly he walked back into the living room with a sigh.

Dean hovered near his little brother's bed. Waiting patiently for him to wake up and call for him. It was a routine, one that didn't take a lot of thought from either party involved. Sam just called out the first thing in his mind and Dean just responded. Doing the best big brotherly thing in the situation.

So he was perched on the edge of a chair in the darkest corner, making very little noise as his gaze pierced the darkness to stare at Sam's peaceful face.

He was thankful that the fever had come down, thankful that Sam didn't seem to be in so much pain anymore, thankful that he was resting without interruption. It was very good; it allowed Dean some time to rest on his own. But it made him feel selfish to fall asleep while Sam might wake up at any given second and call for him. Bobby would no doubt tell him that he was asleep and didn't want to wake him up. Bobby was kind and sweet, but the old guy had no idea how things usually ran between the brothers. Truth be known, he still was a little angry over the needle incident. Bobby shouldn't have a say in things like that. Just cause he was the oldest, didn't mean anything. He didn't really know Sammy….not compared to how Dean knew his baby brother. It made him scowl that Bobby had made the choice and ignored what Dean had said.

But as he scowled, it seemed to upset Sam. The little boy rolled onto his side and moaned.

"Dee-Dee"

Dean slid off his chair and walked over to his little brother. He sat on the bed and put a hand to his warm forehead.

"I'm here Sammy" he soothed.

He could tell that Sam was awake, that his sleep was disrupted and he wouldn't go back there for a little while. He slightly opened his eyes and looked up at his big brother, with the normal clarity and normal attitude that he had. He smiled when he saw his brother. It was a tired smile, a smile that wasn't usually present. But it meant that Sam was happy.

"Dee-Dee" he whispered as he closed his eyes again.

"How are you doing?" Dean asked, generally concerned for his little brother's health.

"Sick still….M'so stuffed up…by nose is runny and my head hurts. Thump, thump" Sam muttered, raising a weak little hand.

Dean caught it in his bigger one and rubbed small circles on the back of it with his thumb.

"Yeah Sammy. I thought so. How about I get you some headache pills. They'll make you go back to sleep for the rest of the night" Dean said, hoping that his little brother would swallow the pills instead of fighting.

Cause he was sure that Bobby didn't have kiddie's liquid crap.

Sam shook his head, the expected response with an unexpected reason.

"I wanna stay with Dean. When I go to sleep, you aren't there. Only sometimes. I wanna stay with you. Don't wanna be by myself" he sighed and snuggled up onto his big brother's hip.

Dean turned his body and lay down in bed with the 8 year old. He put an arm around him and pulled him close. Sam's little body was warm, and that warmth always seemed to penetrate Dean's skin and deep into himself. It felt good to be by Sam, always had. But the moments of closeness were getting few and far between. He wished that they didn't have to grow up, he wished that Sam was still 5 and naive.

He smiled at the memories of 5 year old Sammy. The way that he smiled, the way that he squeaked, the way that he whimpered. His laugh, his eyes, his face, his tiny frame. It was all so….cute. So cute that it even touched Dean's hidden heart.

The first day of school had been a nightmare. It was so hard to peel himself from little Sammy. He'd been so excited about it, so happy about it. But when he realized that Dean wasn't going to be there, he'd started bawling. His little arms had latched around his waist and locked there. No matter what his teacher said or his pleas to let him go, Sammy had just kept crying and sobbing and shaking. It had made Dean feel as big as an ant, so he reasoned with Sam on a level that he usually used on the resistant child. He used bribery. He promised to come back at recess and lunch and take him to get ice cream after school. It had been by sheer chance that Sam had accepted. Dean had wiped away the tears and smiled at him, again promising him. Sam nodded miserably and let the teacher lead him away.

By the time he'd returned; things weren't much better. All the other kids were out and playing on the grassed area, on the jungle Jim. Having fun. But little Sammy had been inside, hidden amongst the bean bags, arms curled around his knees. He sat there, looking frightened and sad. Soon as he'd seen Dean walking back in, he squealed his name and stumbled out of his little rut. He latched onto Dean with the very same death grip and refused to let go. It had taken some awesome soothing and big-brothering to calm Sam down and coax him into letting go and coming outside. He'd said that he would buy Sam and ice cream AND take him to the park if he went over and talked to a girl that was sitting on the side of the deserted sand box. Sam had been reluctant but eventually went over there and talked to her. Her named turned out to be Sarah. Soon as Dean had seen them getting along, he made for the exit. Only to have that Death grip return to his middle and a quivering Sam begging him to stay. Again, Dean had re-assured Sam that everything was alright and that he even had a friend. He had to go and play on his own, play whatever he wanted. Sam had strangely agreed and let him go, then watched him as he left the kindergarten area, waving.

Dean had forsaken the visit at lunch and had hung out with his friends. But when he got back to the kindergarten area to pick Sam up, he found that his little brother hadn't really noticed. He'd been playing a lot with Sarah and both had fallen asleep after the story that after noon.

_Dean walked into the room, waiting for the squeal and sobs that had become quickly associated with that group. But they never came. He slowly crept further into the room, looking around for Sam. All he found was a bunch of sleeping kids at the far end of the room. Dean turned his gaze to the teacher who was cleaning the blackboard. She noticed Dean and smiled warmly. Mrs. Lindsay had always been cool with Dean. She'd never pried into his life and had always accepted his movements. He'd been in this school all his school life in fact. So Mrs. Lindsay knew him well._

"_Hey Dean" she said. _

_Dean nodded with a warm smile in return. _

"_Hey…what happened to the kids?" he asked. _

"_Fell asleep after the story, tuckered out after a long day of school." She sighed. _

_Dean tilted his head. What the hell did 'tuckered out' mean? It couldn't have been anything really bad as Mrs Lindsay had never crossed his trust before. Why start now. _

"_I'm here for Sammy. Take him home. My Uncles' here" Dean said. _

_Mrs. Lindsay nodded and pointed over to the bean bag pile. _

"_He was exhausted, him and Sarah. All I saw them doing was running around and playing and laughing and having so much fun. It was a different Sam from this morning." Mrs. Lindsay said. _

_Dean grinned and inclined his little head. _

"_Huh? Really? Well…Sammy has that effect on people. He always seems to be able to surprise people. Do you mind if I go and get him?" Dean asked. _

_Lindsay shook her head, making her brown hair bounce around. _

"_Not at all" she said. _

_Dean then began to approach the bean bag pile, picking his way through the kids that were strewn everywhere. He reached the bean bags and looked down at his sleeping brother. That tiny form was curled up, a tiny fist in his mouth. He was right next to Sarah, the girl from before. _

_He'd made his first friend. _

_It made Dean swell with pride, he couldn't help but chuckle quietly. _

"_Sammy. Hey…Sam" Dean whispered as he knelt down, gently prodding Sam's little stomach _

_The child's huge round, brown eyes slid open, glazed with sleep. _

"_Hey Dee-Dee" he muttered. _

_Dean smiled at the sound of exhaustion in his voice, the sound of too much laughter that his little tummy hurt. _

"_It's time to go home tiger. Time to get up" Dean said. _

"_Kay….Dee. Sarah?" Sam yawned. Sarah opened her blue eyes to look at Sam. _

"_What's up?" she asked. _

"_M'going home. See you tomorrow" Sam said. _

"_Kay. Bye, bye Sam" Sarah said and closed her eyes again. _

_Sam's eyes closed too and he didn't move. Dean sighed himself and scooped his tiny, little brother up and carried him out of the classroom. _

_Sam sighed contentedly and curled up against his brother's chest, where he felt the safest, where he slept the best. _

"_Dee-Dee" he whispered as Dean opened the gate with a hand. _

"_Yeah?" _

"_I wanna come back tomorrow"_

_Dean laughed at the tired little boy. _

"_Sure thing kiddo. I'll bring ya back." Dean said. _

_Sam nodded. _

"_Thanks Dee-Dee. You're the best. I love you" _

"_Uh-huh" _

"_And you love me too, don't you?" _

_The question startled Dean slightly. Sam didn't usually ask for any response for his declarations of brotherly love. He just knew. Maybe it was the sleep, maybe it was something else. Dean knew he was seeking comfort and love. So why not. _

"_Yes I do. Very much Sammy" Dean said as he squeezed Sam to his chest. _

_Sam smiled dreamily. _

"_Kay." He muttered and fell silent. _

_Dean knew that he'd fallen asleep again. He just let his little brother sleep. As he walked to Bobby's big black truck, he hummed a gentle lullaby. He didn't know why, but he just did. _

He'd gotten into the truck and they had returned to Bobby's house, Dean still cradling Sam in his arms.

He'd only been 9 then. It was three years on. And not a whole lot had changed.

They'd grown a little bigger and the love was openly spoken about less and less.

It was alright, cause they both still loved each other and that much didn't have to be spoken about.

"Dean?" Sam said suddenly.

"Ye-eah?" Dean said.

"Will you stay here. For a little while? I don't wanna be alone." Sam said, repeating his dislike of being alone.

Dean nodded, unsure of what might happen if he said no.

"Sure thing squirt. But only cause you're my little brother" Dean said softly as he nudged Sam's cheek with his nose.

Sam giggled and sighed deeply, content with what had been said.

"Thanks Dean. You're the best" Sam said softly; Dean half expected Sam to say the words that meant so much.

But they never came. So instead, he decided to initiate the three word declaration.

"I love you Sammy" he said softly as he could without sounding hoarse.

Sammy's eyes widened and he looked up at his older brother, a look of utter shock and wonder on his face.

He couldn't believe that Dean had actually said it; truth was that Dean couldn't quite grasp it either.

A slow and steady smile of utter love and gratitude filled the sick boy's face.

"I love you too Dee-Dee. I love you more than anything else in the universe. I love you sooooo much that I….I….I…..I love you too much to say…." Sam said excitedly.

Dean smiled and took a deep breath. That hadn't been so hard. Why was it so hard to get out? Why did he have to act so tough around Sam? His little brother was always seeking love and comfort. Maybe he'd stopped because Dean hadn't returned the words. Now he just felt stupid. He should have said it every day of his life. Should have made Sammy know it, forced him too.

"Dee-Dee?" Sammy ventured.

"Yeah Sam?"

"I always known that you love me…..even if you didn't say it….I know….do you know?" Sam said.

It was freaky! That little kid could always read Dean's thoughts. Could tell what he was saying.

Dean nodded.

"I know Sam. But I just wanted to say it. I needed to say it. It needs to be said, should be said. I'm sorry for not saying it more often" he said and bundled his brother closer to him, taking in the smell of his baby brother.

It was a beautiful smell, the best smell in the world. His own Sammy scent.

Sammy squirmed slightly and then his little shaggy head popped up from under his chin and his big round eyes were glistening with unshed tears. But he said nothing, he didn't need to say anything. Dean could understand the gratitude that was there and the love and the awe and the respect for his older brother. Sam wanted to say thank you for everything, but there was no way that his little mouth could say the words good enough. He just blinked, eyes still glistening and tucked his head under his brother's chin and relaxed.

It wasn't very long before he was asleep, little heart beating against the stronger, larger pulse of his brother's. Dean didn't sleep though, he just lay there. His eyes were far away as he tangled his fingers in Sam's longish hair. He was thinking, trying to think of what might have stopped him from saying those three words sooner.

But again, the knock on the door startled him and made him jerk. The movement made Sam stir, the little kid sighing and snuggling closer the Dean's chest. Dean looked up from the bed to see Bobby stick his head in. the Old man's eyes lite up when he saw the two in a warm embrace. But there was something else in there too. Something deeper, something more sinister.

He nodded and detangled himself from Sam and walked outside. He looked up at Bobby and closed the door behind him.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

Bobby sighed and his shoulders sank.

"The doctor called…..Dean…" Bobby said.

Dean's heart began to tense as did his muscles. He knew that something trivial and Flu like would make Bobby so upset.

"What's happened?" he asked.

Bobby put an old hand on his young shoulder and knelt down.

"Sam's results are back….and…..its really bad Dean" Bobby said.


	3. Chapter 3

I have gotten so much feedback for this!!

It's insane, I hope that you like this chapter...it was a little difficult to write. I hope you love it and review...please. I am a girl of few words...a lot like Dean...So...yeah...review and love it.

* * *

Hitting the panic button would have been the understatement of the century for Dean.

'_It's really bad Dean' _

The words bad and Sammy never went together well. If they did, it was Dean's job to stop it and make it right again.

But with Sammy being _sick_, there wasn't a lot that Dean could do. Only adhere to his brother's needs. But that wasn't enough, no where near enough.

'_Oh god…what's wrong with Sammy. What did I forget to do?'_ Dean thought as he kept his eyes on Bobby.

Dean watched his movements like a hawk, waiting for what seemed like a lifetime for the old hunter to pluck up the courage to tell him what might be wrong with Sam.

After gaping like a fish for sometime and nothing more than fractions of broken words coming out, Bobby shook his head and closed his eyes.

"He's got…." He began.

Dean held his breath, ready for the knock out blow that would drive him to insanity.

But it never came. Bobby paused and that pause was just long enough for the urgent and annoying trill of the phone to sound downstairs.

'_No! Tell me! Don't answer it. Tell me!'_ Dean begged as he remained motionless and fixed on Bobby's face.

The hunter looked over his shoulder and sighed deeply.

"I'll be right back. I gotta answer the phone. Just hang on." Bobby said as he got to his feet.

Dean could only watch as he descended the stairs. When he was gone, Dean let out the breath he'd been holding in with a long and low sigh. He'd just missed a bullet. A necessary bullet, but a bullet none the less.

'_Do you want Sammy to get better?'_

That argument was so clear in his mind now, that it took up all room for thought.

He could remember the anger that flowed through him at the audacity of Bobby, to say yes to something that Dean didn't want. Who was Bobby anyway, but some old coot that lived on his own away from everyone else.

'_Then they need to figure out what he has'_

How dare he do what he did. It was unthinkable. Unimaginable. It was all Bobby, he'd made Sam take that stupid test. His fault. He'd made Sam take the test and now it came back with some bogus result. Well, it's wrong. The result is wrong. No matter what it is. Sammy's fine. There's nothing wrong with him. Bobby was wrong and crazy. He was nothing more to Dean than a friend of his father.

His father.

The thought made Dean scowl.

Where was he? Why wasn't he here, caring for Sam like he should be. This wasn't Dean's job. This wasn't what he signed up for when getting a little brother. He signed up for laughter, fun, cuteness and love.

Not living in fear of every shadow. It had all happened when Sam had come about. But despite that fact, Dean didn't blame his little brother for anything. It couldn't have been because of him. If Sam hadn't been there, god forbid….it still would have happened and no doubt would Dean have gone mad without him.

But where was John? He knew Sam was sick…why wasn't he here. Caring for him, making sure he felt loved. Not that Dean couldn't do it, he could. But he just wanted Sam to have a Dad that cared about him. A Dad that actually didn't flinch when the little tyke hugged him.

"S'not fair" Dean muttered.

Anger welled inside Dean and he turned sharply and kicked the wall. The shot jarred pain up through his leg, but he didn't care.

"Its not FAIR" he yelled angrily and launched a punch at the wall.

The blow bounced off the surface, making Dean angrier and angrier. He launched into a full blow assault on the wall, for no good reason other than the fact that it wasn't fair.

It was a miracle that Bobby or Sam didn't hear him, but he was left alone until he ran out of anger and slid to the floor.

Rage induced tears were scorching his face like acid tracks. He let out a sob that shook his body to the core.

Why was it always Dean's job to do everything. Why did Dean always have to look after Sam, why did Dean have to take the brunt of the anger that was built up in John after a botched hunt. Why did Dean have to cook and clean and pick Sam up from school and never go out anywhere. Why did Dad have to hunt and hunt and hunt and hunt? What was the point of it all?!

Couldn't he be normal for once. Maybe just for a day?

Couldn't he have friends, go out to see a movie? Have a play with Sam in the backyard of a real house. Have a father that cared. Have a mother.

Why was it always put on him to be the outcast, to be the black sheep of the world.

Couldn't someone else do it for a change. Just so he could be a person for once, not some freak.

* * *

Something hot and twisty curled inside Sam's stomach and it made him moan. He was still asleep, but his stomach was making itself known. It twisted and wrenched about violently, until little Sammy opened his eyes to the world and shuddered at the assault the Flu landed on him again. 

His first realization was that Dean was no longer with him. His older brother wasn't next to him, wasn't in the room at all.

It made Sam a little nervous and a little upset, but he couldn't seriously expect Dean to be with him 24/7.

He had his own life too….

And it shouldn't stop, just cause Sammy was sick.

Sam smiled at his level headedness. He liked the thought that Dean was having fun, a little sore that it was without him, but having fun none the less.

But the smile was quickly turned into a grimace of pain as the twisty, curling thing warped itself into a whole new form that caused grief.

The snaky thing was getting stronger, Sam was certain of it.

Maybe it would bust outta his stomach soon, and run off making people scream.

A comforting thought….NOT.

Sam really wished he saw the end of that movie, or at least what happened to the guy that had the alien jump out of him.

Did he get up and tell people that it was all okay? That it was just his little pet.

Sam groaned as the snaky thing's spine brushed against his stomach.

A nasty little pet.

Sam didn't want the pet anymore, he wanted it to leave. Not through his stomach, but leave some other way. So it could bother someone else.

Being sick was no fun, and Sam had been sick long enough. No more sick, no more snaky thing.

Maybe if he got up and walked around for a little bit, he might feel better. But upon the feeling of the snaky thing twisting again, with its sharp spines brushing so close to his stomach and the ill feeling after it, he felt a little unsure of whether or not his stomach would make it downstairs with him and wondered that might not be such a crash-hot idea.

So he sat there, thinking. Rocking back and forth slowly.

'_Maybe it's time I told Dean about the snaky thing in me' _

* * *

Dean had retreated to his bed room to calm down. But calming down was hard when all he could do was think about it. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. 

The more tears slid down his face, the harder the sobs wracked his body.

'_Why me….why this family. I can think of a hundred families that deserve this. Why this family. We did nothing wrong'_ Dean thought furiously.

The knock at the door disturbed his angry thoughts and furious tears.

"Go away" Dean snarled.

The words had left Dean's mouth before he thought that it might have been Sammy. Luckily, it wasn't and Bobby could deal with a little snarl.

"Come out Dean. I gotta tell you something. It's important" Bobby called.

Dean snorted, and laughed shakily.

"If its about Sam. I don't wanna hear it! It's wrong. You're wrong. The whole friggin world is WRONG" Dean yelled angrily.

He wasn't acting like he was meant to; not like he was taught to. Instead he was acting naturally, all these words came naturally. Like it was meant to be. The feelings of unfairness and loneliness and hate were radiating through his teenage body. He'd heard it called Hormones. When a child starts acting erratically as their body goes through changes.

'_Screw them and screw the world'_ was a good phrase that was running through Dean's head.

"Dean, it's not about Sammy. This is different. I need you to come out here." Bobby said.

It seemed to be a reasonable request, but to Dean it was like Bobby was asking Dean to murder Sam.

"Go away" Dean repeated, not bothering to consider the possibility of coming out.

There was an exasperated sigh from the other side of the door.

"I've gotta go Dean. I've gotta leave" Bobby said.

The simple sentence froze the _hormones_ in their tracks and Dean scrambled off the bed. He reefed open the door and stared up at the weary face of Bobby.

"Why!?" he asked.

Even though he wanted to be left alone, he didn't want to be alone. There _was_ a difference.

Bobby shook his head.

"Not for you to worry about. I have to go over a few states and….help out a friend. I want you to stay here and look after Sammy" Bobby said.

"What! What friend. Tell me what's happening!" Dean demanded.

"None of your business Dean. That's what's happening" Bobby shot as he began to head to his room to pack a few things.

"Bobby, please. Tell me" Dean begged as he followed.

"Can't kid. Sorry. But it's nothing you should worry about." Bobby said roughly as he grabbed a duffle bag from under his bed. He began filling it with hunting gear.

Dean frowned.

"Is a hunter in trouble?" he asked.

Bobby froze slightly.

"Yeah Dean. I'm gonna go help em out." He said.

Dean felt a little ball of worry turn into a massive balloon of nerves.

"It's no one we know….right?" Dean asked weakly.

Bobby turned to him and shook his head quickly. Dean couldn't help but notice that he didn't make eye contact with him.

It wasn't long before Bobby was walking hurriedly down stairs, Dean was following him closely.

"What about Sam!" Dean said suddenly.

"Just look after him. Give him whatever he wants. Keep his fever cool, his body warm, keep his fluids up, his strength up, keep him in bed and make sure that he's comfy. Other than that. You can't do anything for him. If things get too bad, or if he starts throwing up. Call Doctor Jones, he'll know what to do. His numbers by the phone. I'll call as soon as I can." Bobby said as he held up a cell phone.

But Dean felt more than a little apprehensive about the instructions, and a little more than angry that the Doctor may have to come back. There was a lot of room for a _really bad _in there.

"No pills! Don't give him any pills for anything. No headache tablets, no pain killers. Nothing. In fact, no medicine at all! No cough syrup. Nothing. Dean. No medicine" Bobby said suddenly.

Dean scowled and shook his head.

"That's not enough!" he said.

"I know, but its all that can be done. I'll be back in two days. If not, just wait for me. I won't be long. I promise" Bobby said.

Dean couldn't help but think of the long list of promises that the man had broken. This one….he'd better keep this one. This one involved Sammy.

"Alright" he said softly.

"'Atta boy Deuce. Now do what I said, you know where everything is. I'll call you when I'm on my way back. Alright?" Bobby said.

"Right" Dean muttered.

"Come on! Look alive. It's only for a little while. Just trust me" Bobby said as he threw his things into the back of his blue tow truck.

Dean just nodded and watched as the old hunter climbed into the car.

"Watch out for Sammy" he warned.

"I will" he said softly.

"Good. Be safe Dean" Bobby said and the truck roared to life.

It began to rumble away, along the dirt road that led out of the Auto-yard.

Dean just watched it as it left, thinking about all the people that were deserting the two Winchester boys.

* * *

Sammy heard the low, guttural rumble of Bobby's truck and scrambled out of bed. He swayed over to the window and peered through the grimy pane of glass to see Bobby climb into the truck still talking to Dean. 

"What's he doing! Why is he leaving!" Sam question, talking to no-one in particular.

Fear suddenly ripped through his weak body and his breaths came in short gasps.

He couldn't let Bobby leave. He needed Bobby AND Dean if he wanted to get better. He trusted Dean; but he needed an adult around.

He thought that he needed Daddy as well, but Daddy wasn't there. He was on a ghostie hunt that didn't include the boys. Which meant that whatever the boys were like, whatever they were doing. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the hunt.

It didn't make sense to Sam. Wasn't a father meant to care for his children, not drag them over the earth fighting scary monsters.

Or maybe….his Dad was normal and every one else was wrong.

It was confusing and it hurt Sam's already hurting head.

His thoughts turned back to the scene outside as he saw the truck beginning to move away. Sam couldn't let Bobby go. He wanted Bobby to stay. So he turned and stumbled from his room, staggered down the stairs, then too the door.

"Wait! Wait!" he yelled.

He hit the door before he could stop and bounced back off it. Shaking his little head quickly, wincing at the movement, he pulled open the big heavy door to go outside.

Dean turned as Sam staggered outside before his little body sank to the floor, his little eyes wide with fright.

"Where's Bobby going?" Sam asked hurriedly as he watched the retreating truck.

"Sam!?" Dean yelled as he rushed to his side.

"Where's Bobby going! I wanna know!" Sam said, his little voice was high pitched and bled a note of distress.

"I dunno Sam. Just left" Dean sighed deeply.

The snaky thing suddenly kicked and twisted in Sam's stomach and the little boy gave a small yelp. He grabbed hold of his stomach and shuddered. Dean's strong arms were instantly wrapped around him and lifted him from the ground.

"Sammy! Sammy what's that matter? Are you okay?" Dean asked worriedly.

Sam winced at the stabs of pain that ripple through him and wished that he had stayed in bed.

"My tummy hurts" he whimpered.

Dean's face was close to Sammy's and the look of worry and concern in his eyes was overpowering.

"It's okay Sammy. Just hang on. We'll go back to bed for a while yeah? Go and have a sleep. How about that?" Dean asked as he headed inside.

Sam curled up against his brother and whimpered again.

"I don't like the snaky things Dee-Dee. It hurts" Sammy muttered.

Hurrying up the stairs, Dean didn't seem to mind his brother's confession. But it would sink in later, Sam was sure of it.

At that second, Sam wished that he'd stayed exactly where he had been and not moved.

* * *

Dean gently lay Sammy back out in the bed that Bobby had leant them, then pulled the covers up to his chin and tucked him in. The sudden attack had worn Sam out, Dean could see that he was exhausted. 

Man….this illness had a hold on the kid.

"Dean, make the snaky thing go away" Sam muttered.

The voice was so pleading, so weak that Dean felt like he could have curled into a ball and cried his eyes out at the sound. But he'd had enough crying for one day, enough to last him a few years in fact.

But the actual words had caught his attention.

"Snaky thing? What the hell are you talking about Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam turned the big, round, moist brown orbs that were called eyes on his brother and said in a very serious tone.

"There's a little snaky thing inside me….in my tummy. And it's gonna bust out when it feels like it and start running around making people scream. Just like the movie" Sammy said.

Dean stared at his little brother, dumb founded. How on earth did his brother come up with these types of things? Where did he pull these things from?

"You what?" was all he could manage.

Sam frowned, treating it as a very serious matter.

"The snaky thing with arms and legs and a really long tail and really sharp teeth. It makes people scream" Sam said folding his arms.

He winced slightly as his arms brushed against his stomach.

Dean just sat there, taking in the words and the look on Sam's face, before he burst out laughing. It was unbelievable! What the hell was Sam on about! But whatever it was, it was funny.

But the laughter made Sam scowl.

"I'm serious Dee-Dee" he said softly.

The tone of his voice made Dean laugh harder.

"Oh god Sammy!" he laughed as he bent over.

It wasn't long before Sam was staring at him curiously.  
"What's so funny?" he asked innocently.

Dean decided to break the news to him that he wasn't infested with little snaky things. He took a few whooping gulps of air before wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Oh…Sammy. You're a funny one." Dean said softly as he looked at his little brother.

Sam tilted his head to one side.

"Why? Why did you laugh Dee-Dee? Did I make a funny joke?" he asked.

"Yeah…a really funny joke. You think there's a snaky thing in you? Man…that's dumb Sammy" Dean sighed.

"I'm not dumb!" Sam said indignantly.

His little voice was high pitched again, his little eyes wide with an indescribable emotion.

"There's no such thing as a little snaky thing. You're not infested with anything. You're just sick. That's all" Dean said softly, making sure that he kept eye contact with his little brother.

Trying to help him understand.

"But…then…what's wrong with me?" Sam asked.

Dean's soft face fell to one that was ridden with sadness and fear. His eyes glazed as he looked at Sam, he took his little hand and made soothing circles with his thumb trying to find a better way to break it to him. But upon finding none, he sighed deeply and said

"I don't know"

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Yeah...I am that evil. Still haven't told you what Sam has. And if you didn't like this chapter...then I'll let out a secret. I'm speeding it up next chapter...I hope!!

Review and love me!!!


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, so...chapter 4, and for all of you who HAVE been reading...you know...things start taking the turn for the worst...poor Dee-Dee...haha...Big Hi to those who send me reviews...love you...long Time...LONG TIME...and...a Big Welcome to Mr. Shoe's Friend...I have seen you've jumped on my band wagon...found your reviews everywhere...I love you and Perfectharmony...I forgot the number, but you know who you are...Right...enough blabbing...on with the story...!!!!

* * *

Sammy felt a pang of fear rip through him as he stared up into his brother's face.

"I don't know" he said, and he wasn't kidding.

Sam could see the blunt and honest truth in his eyes. He could see the fear and the concern for him, he could also see an element of guilt.

But why would Dean be guilty? How could Dean be responsible for what was wrong with Sam?

He'd done everything big-brotherly possible to stop this from happening and that was a lot to do!

But it had still happened, which meant that it was just supposed to be.

Sam didn't like things that Dean didn't know, he didn't like things that no one seemed to be able to tell him about. Cause they always ended up really bad.

Like when the time he'd asked about what Dad did and where he went.

Dean had begged him to stop asking questions and just accept that Daddy went away sometimes.

When Sam had actually found out, he wished that he hadn't. It just fuelled his hatred for all things dark and scary. It had changed the little boy when he'd found out, something had died in him. The knowledge that things are not all fair and happy in the world, is not a wisdom that should be placed on the shoulders of a young child. Sam had been only four when he'd been told about the ghosts and the spirits and the demons and the black dogs and the Wendigos. It had terrified him outright and he'd sought Dean for shelter. In fact he'd begged him to tell him that it wasn't true.

But Dean couldn't do that. He'd used the exact same face then, as he was now.

Sam frowned and caught sight of the irrational fear that was in Dean's eyes.

His older brother was scared and Daddy wasn't there to shush him and help him.

Only Sam was here. So…plucking up what meagre courage the little boy had after being told he'd come down with something no one knew about, he smiled.

A big smile, a warm smile and jiggled Dean's hand.

"It's alright. S'probably nothing." Sam said firmly.

Dean's face twisted for a second and the littlest Winchester could swear he saw the hint of tears, but they disappeared and Dean ruffled his hair.

"Yeah…you're right squirt. Probably nothing at all. In fact…I'll bet you're faking!" Dean said. Sam laughed.

"I am not!" Sam said.

"Are too!" Dean accused.

"Am not!" Sam denied.

"Too"

"Not"

"Too"

"Not"

"Not!"

"Am too!!!" Sam squealed.

Again, just like before, he'd been duped and the little Winchester laughed along with his big brother.

But Sam could crush the trembling fear that was in his gut, that something was really wrong. He almost wished that the snaky thing would come back.

Dean couldn't believe the way his little brother could read him and the way that he could sound so much like an adult for his 8 years of age, it was amazing.

The wise, knowing look in his eyes just screamed his maturity.

Then the way that they had _'Argued'_ spoke of how naive and young he really was.

Sam was an amazing kid, that was all Dean could say about his little brother. He was amazed about how his little brother had offered _him_ comfort, when Dean should have been the one comforting him.

"Alright Sam. It's time for a nap" Dean said, interrupting his own reverie.

Sam would have usually moaned and groaned and griped and whinged until Dean had given him 5 minutes more. But there were two things that stopped Sam, Dean figured.

Number one, his stomach did hurt and he knew that sleeping would make it go away.

Number two, Sam was really tired after the Bobby escapade.

Sam nodded and scooted down under the covers, until only his little head was visible. Dean swallowed hard at the pallor of his skin, but the smile on Sam's face betrayed how under the weather he really felt.

"Alright kiddo. I'll be downstairs, yell out if you need me. I'll be listening." Dean said as he re-tucked the bed in. The amount of jostling little Sammy did was shocking in such a short space of time.

"Kay Dean. Night Dean." Sam muttered as his eyes slid closed.

Waiting until he was sure Sam was settled, the teenager left the room and descended the flight of stairs. Without Sammy; the handful of hyperactivity and the Sammy that was constantly on a sugar high, Dean was at a loss of what to do.

He didn't have homework, didn't have any friends to call and didn't have anything to do. So, he flopped down in a lumpy old chair and turned the TV on, hoping to god that there was something decent on.

Three hours had long since passed and sitting still had taken its toll on Dean. He sat there, barely holding his head off his chest. Half asleep, half awake.

The events of the day had been beyond his control and he was sick of it. The blood test, the phone calls, the crying, people constantly letting him and Sam down. It was amazing how many people could still do that. It made Dean a little more than sad to think that there were more important things other than a sick Sammy to his father. That was one of the painful thorns in his side that no one could remove. Bobby's constant in and out, not quite sure what he wanted. Whether or not to be a good father figure or to be a complete ass.

Dean sighed out of frustration from his dozing state, he was sick of all these people trying to help but always ending up hurting. It was impossible to think about the number of people who'd let down Dean, more than impossible to think about how many people had let down Sam.

If they let down Dean, yeah….he could live with that.

But if they let down Sam, there was a problem.

The kid was bright, glowing even and he needed encouragement. Dean was a constant source, but he was only the big brother. There was only so much that a big brother could do. Sam needed a supportive father figure in his life and John wasn't that person. He was a constant source of pain for Sam, and it tore Dean up inside to see Sam ask him something; perhaps to attend a drama performance that he was about to play a big part in. Then to hear his father's voice saying no. Gotta hunt, gotta clean the guns, gotta do this, gotta do that. Whatever, whatever, whatever. It seemed like 1000 excuses under the sun, just so he could let Sam down. The look on the little kid's face was always heartbreaking. The big round brown eyes filling with unshed tears, the way his lips trembled, the way he seemed to shrink. The hyperactivity disappearing from him. The way he'd whisper '_kay_' and then slink off. Usually Dean would follow him and pick him up from behind.

'_It's okay Sammy. He probably wouldn't get it anyway. How about….I come? Come and see my little brother make himself a big star?' _

The way Sam's face would light up, the way he would smile was something that would probably make the blind even smile.

'_Really Dee-Dee? You mean it? You wanna come and see my play?'_

'_Why not, I mean….got nothing better to do. Plus if you're heading to Hollywood, I wanna be in on the ground floor. Gonna have to mooch money off ya kiddo. Could ya spare a buck for your brother…please?' _

He dug his fingers into Sam's ribs, making the little kid squeal with delight. The sheer pleasure of the game called 'tickles' was one of the better things in Dean's life. Sam would squirm and laugh and giggle and push against the invading hands, but usually he lost once he'd been caught.

'_M'not going to Hollywood….I don't wanna meet Holly' _

It was funny how Sam seemed to get things a little muddled up, it was cute.

'_Yes you do! You love Holly!!!' _

Encouraging him wasn't hard and it was fun.

'_No…Dee-Dee! Stop!! Stop, I give up!! I give up!!'_

"Dee-Dee?"

Dean jumped awake, his head jerking upwards as he realized that he'd fallen asleep. His eyes turned towards the source of the noise, to find his little brother standing there. Sam stood there, clutching Woobie to his little chest as he stared at Dean.

'_Oh no….did he call and was I asleep….oh no'_ Dean thought.

Pushing away the instant sense of failure, he sat up in the chair and smiled at Sam.

"What are you doing up?" he asked gently.

Sam looked towards the top of the stairs and then back at Dean.

"M'scared by myself…." He whimpered.

The statement came as a little bit of a shock to Dean as his brother was no longer afraid of the dark, at least. Not to his extensive knowledge.

"Of what, squirt?" He asked, putting a hand on his brother's bony little shoulder.

Again Sam glanced up towards the room, his eyes wide with fright. He swayed a little and Dean winced at the thought of Sam being so weak. He gathered his little brother in his arms and pulled him up onto his lap, where he cradled him like a little baby.

"Come on Sammy. What's the matter?" Dean asked as he rocked his kid brother back and forth.

Almost instantly he felt the raised body heat surrounding his brother and knew that the fever was making a grand come back. Luckily Sam wasn't delirious yet and if Dean could help it, wasn't ever going to be.

"I had a nightmare….nasty nightmare….I don't wanna be alone…" Sam whispered, turning his wide eyes to Dean again.

The knowledge that talking about it helped was invaluable at times.

"Tell me what it was about kiddo. Let me see if I can help you" Dean said.

Sammy shook his head, his brown hair flying all over the place.

"I don't wanna scare you too! Cause it will!!" Sam said.

"I won't get scared, I want you to tell me what it was about" Dean soothed.

Sammy shifted in his arms, reluctant to say anything. But slowly his little mouth opened and he sucked in a breath.

"There….there were these big yellow….yellow eyes. They kept staring at me….and this scary man….kept saying scary things to me…..things about you and Daddy….and Mommy….then….then….then….my head hurt….really bad and I saw people….big people" Sam muttered, his little voice shaking and his hands gripping both Woobie and Dean.

The dream disturbed Dean, that much was sure but he knew that there was more and Sammy had just stopped cause the fear had stopped him.

"It's alright Sammy. It's alright…keep going. Who were these big people. What did they look like" Dean asked.

Sam took a deep shuddering breath and pushed himself closer against his brother.

"They…they were two…two….guys. One of them….was shorter….had…brown spiky like….hair and green eyes….he…he was with…with...this other guy….really tall….brown eyes and long hair….like mine….they were talking about….about what Dad talks…..about. They sounded…really scared Dean….then….then this…this big thing came…and they started yelling….then…then they…they…" Sam trailed off, his voice dying into a hiccupping sob.

Sam's little eyes welled with tears so fast that Dean could hardly see them until they were rolling down his face. Dean knew Sam was afraid cause he'd just seen two people die. Even though it was a dream, it would have been terrifying for the little eight year old, who had not been on a hunt. So, instead of pushing for a continue, Dean accepted that Sam had said enough and turned to comforting him.

"Hey….it's alright, don't cry Sammy. It was just a nightmare….didn't really happen. None of it happened" Dean said softly.

It took a while, but Dean was eventually able to calm Sam down to half choked sobs, but no more tears came from him.

"There we are…..good…..feel better?" Dean asked softly.

Sam nodded slightly, his fists were still balled in Dean's shirt and in Woobie's soft material.

"Uh-huh" he breathed.

Dean smiled and bounced his brother, like he was a small baby in his arms, still making soothing noises for the little 8 year old.

"How ya feeling?" Dean asked, genuinely worried about the heat of the small bundle.

Sam looked up at Dean, his little cheeks were flushed a pinkish red, whether from the crying or the fever. Crying made a cold hard to discern. The sniffles, the choked sound of the voice, the colour of their skin; besides that, Dean hated seeing Sammy cry. It was like a roof fell down inside him when he saw the first tears slip from those huge brown orbs. The roof would keep falling until he saw Sam smile again, only then could it be re-built.

"My tummy hurts" Sam muttered, looking down at his stomach.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"My head….my neck….everything…." Sam said softly, his little head flopped onto Dean's chest were it stayed.

The little episode had drained his strength, that strength needed to be replenished. By means of sleep.

Dean carefully shifted his brother in his arms and stood up.

"Okay…here we go" he whispered, half to himself, half to the drowsy bundle.

"Where?" Sam asked sleepily.

"Back to bed, to keep your temperature constant. Make things a little bit easier on your body kiddo" Dean said as he set a foot on the stairs.

"I don't wanna go back to bed! Don't make me go back to bed!!" Sam suddenly squirmed in his arms and became a writhing mass that refused to let Dean take a step. It was more or less startling to the carrier.

"Whoa….Sammy calm down. Stop….stop" he said as he held onto his little body tighter.

But his brother kept squirming, his whimpers becoming wails of distress as he fought against the iron grip of Dean.

"Okay…okay…okay. Sammy, we won't go back to the room. Just stop…..stop moving alright…." Dean said, giving in when he heard one of the wails, it shot right through his heart and into his soul.

His will collapsed and he gave into the demands of the eight year old as if he was an authority figure.

Sam slowed to a stop, little chest heaving as he sucked in massive amounts of air. He was struggling with the task, much to Dean's surprise. The wheezing noise he was emitting made something inside Dean turn to red. Everything suddenly went on high alert and Dean loosened his grip further on the bundle. He carried him quickly to the couch and lay him out, covering his tiny body in Woobie.

"Sammy…Sammy what's the matter?! Are you alright?" Dean asked, he knew the answer.

No, things were not alright. Sam was eight years old and he was having trouble breathing.

"What's wrong….with me?...Dee-Dee?" Sam asked, between panting breaths.

"I don't know." Dean said.

The confessed of lack of knowledge sent Sam spinning, the little kid tightened a grip on Dean's arms and his breathing became more laboured. He was panicking, out of control, fighting something that wasn't really there and he was loosing.

Dean's hand wavered above the panic button too, but he maintained a grip on reality and on Sammy. He needed to get his brother calm, keep him cool, re-assure him and get him to breathe deep and slow, before the little kid lost consciousness from lack of oxygen.

"Sam….Sam look at me buddy! Hey…." Dean said, catching Sam's attention was harder than he'd anticipated.

The little kid was wide eyed, terrified that something was happening to him that was out of Sam's control, worse yet; out of Dean's control.

"Sammy. Listen to me….look at me!!" Dean yelled, gripping Sam as tight as he dared.

There was a flicker of recognition as Sam's eyes turned on him, full of fear and panic and sheer loss of bodily control.

"Hey….it's alright. It's alright Sammy. It'll be okay, just so long as you calm down. That's the only thing wrong with you. You're panicking. You have to remain calm, get a control on your breathing." Dean said.

Sam didn't seem to register the words.

"Dee-Dee….help….can't….breathe" he panted.

"Yes you can….relax….Sam. Just trust me…..you trust me don't you?" Dean asked, squeezing his brother's hand.

Sam nodded slightly, his eyes still just as wide and panicked. But he seemed to have heard Dean.

"Good, that's good. Now relax Sammy. Just cool down." Dean soothed.

"H….h….how?" Sam asked softly.

It was good that the little kid was willing to calm down, to try and relax. Most kids would have been balling their eyes out and would not be as easily calmed. But Sam; as aforementioned was a lot more mature than a 8 old as he saw things that an 8 year old could only dream about. He knew what he had to do.

"You have to control the breathing, you have to take deep breaths, slow and deep. Slow and deep" Dean said softly.

Sam nodded, slightly again, almost as if he was trying to keep his airway open. Slowly, painfully slowly Dean watched as Sam reigned in his panic like someone well beyond his years. It relieved Dean no end when Sam had finally relaxed himself, his breathing slow and deep.

"How is it?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Hard…." His little brother coughed.

A cold wave of panic rose up inside Dean as he heard the single word that he hadn't wanted to hear. Sam's breathing was hard, it was bad. It was worse than bad.

"Do you want me….to…to call the Doctor?" Dean stammered, unable to keep his voice steady.

He watched as uncertainty crossed Sam's face, watched as Sam took another deep breath, struggling against some unseen force that was strangling the poor boy. Suddenly, his little face twisted into a look of utter fear.

"I want Daddy" Sam whispered.

"Dad? You want Dad? Why do you want Dad?" Dean asked, frowning.

"I want Daddy….I want Daddy now….Dee-Dee" Sammy began to shake again, his little body reacting to the sorrow and fear that he felt.

"Okay….I'll go and get Dad. I'll ring him alright….just relax…Sam. I'll call him." Dean soothed.

He waited until the tremors had slightly subsided and then got to his feet. Though reluctant to leave Sam, even for the briefest of seconds, he knew an important fact. Not only did Sam want his father there, but Dean hated to admit that he too wanted John here.

He picked up the phone, took one last glance at Sam and then prepared to loose what pride he had, by crawling to his father for help. After he'd fought so hard against John, it left a bitter taste in his mouth even before he dialled the number. Slowly sighing, Dean dialled his father's number into the phone, then held it to his ear and awaited his father's tone to come down the line, in a sharp reprimand that would end up with a broken hearted, ill Sammy.

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Should I do it? Should I seriously break Sammy's heart or...or what? Give me ideas...and I'll tell you what...I like and What I don't like...Love you long time...oh wait...hang on a sec...just a question to everyone who reads...Who do you like more? Sammy or Dee-Dee...I mean...from the show...not here...I'm just curious...Love me...Love you...Love the whole world...but especially Sammy and Dee-Dee.

REVIEW AND I'LL LOVE YOU MORE!!!


	5. Chapter 5

The dial tone was something more than an irritant for Dean as he held the phone to his ear as he prepared to dial. He hated having to call his father, he loathed it. Crawling back to him after such a defiant stance was beyond embarrassing and beyond shameful. But, he wasn't calling for his own benefit. He wasn't calling for himself. He was calling for Sammy. He was doing it for Sam, calling for Sam. Cause Sammy was scared. Although he was totally trusting of Dean and totally loving of his big brother, Sammy needed an adult there for him. Dean was only 12. That wasn't that big. It made Dean's stomach twist to think that Bobby had been right. That he wasn't that big, he was very little still, compared to all the adults around him. he hated feeling small, feeling little. It had been something of his old life, it had been something that he could afford to feel when his mother was around.

Dean frowned at the thought.

Sammy didn't need a Dad. Sam needed a Mom. Someone who would care, who was _capable_ of caring and of loving the little boy. John didn't seem to be able to do that. He seemed constantly capable of letting Sammy down, but caring for the boy; that was beyond him.

Slowly, he dialled the number for his father's cell phone and listened to it ring.

Taking deep breaths and reminding himself that Sammy needed an adult was the only thing he could do to stop from hanging up.

As he began to wonder where his father was and why he wasn't answering his phone, the ringing stopped and John's heavy voice came through the speaker.

"Yeah?" he said, he sounded pretty tired.

Must have been the hunt. To Dean's chagrin, he felt some measure of concern for his father's well being.

"Dad….its me" Dean said, brushing aside the thoughts and remaining focused on getting Sam what he wanted.

He heard something close to a groan on the other end of the line and it made him even more furious than before.

"Dean…what is it? I'm busy" John said, frustration now lacing his voice.

"It's Sammy, he is getting worse and he says that he wants you back here." Dean said, breathing deep and relying on his thoughts for his brother.

"I can't come back yet Dean. I'm busy" John said abruptly, effectively ending the conversation.

Dean's mouth hung open, listening to his father's sudden and brushing off of Sam's illness; it made him feel more than sick to his stomach. He was actually afraid that he might throw up too. That would be _fantastic_.

"But….Sammy….he…we…need you Dad. We need you to come back. I dunno what to do!" Dean said, perhaps the raw emotion and the utter desperation in his voice would change his mind and appeal to his…._fatherly nature_.

"Can't Dean. You'll find a way around it. If he gets worse, call an ambulance" John said, not even taking the time to consider the possibility that Dean was telling the truth.

Anger flourished in Dean as soon as he heard the words, he clenched his fists so hard he was surprised that they didn't break.

"Sam _needs_ you….doesn't that mean _anything_ to you!" Dean hissed.

"Listen to me, you don't understand Dean, I can't come back….I'm" John began.

"Stop right there!!" Dean snarled.

Shocked silence radiated down the line at Dean's sudden outburst. The teenager had been defiant, but never _that_ rude. But Dean had taken enough, and he wasn't going to let his father get away with this. He wasn't in the mood.

"_You_ listen to _me_! Sammy is your son, he is eight years old and he is NOT faking this! If you were any kind of father, you would haul your ass right back here. In fact, you would have never left in the first place." Dean snarled.

"You are way outta line" John snapped.

"No I am NOT! You are outta line!! Sammy is a kid and you think that he doesn't know you don't care about him. Or anything he does?! I am sick and tired of having to watch you break his heart, over and over again. I can't do it anymore. This is the last time you will hurt Sam. I swear to god….if I have to listen to one more excuse from you, or if I see one more tear come from Sammy's eyes because of you….I'm gonna take Sam and I'm gonna leave. We're gonna go somewhere, where you can't hurt him anymore….somewhere where you…and all of your stupid friends and stupid ideas aren't! Somewhere safe. And we're gonna stay there. Okay?! So…if you value any little thing about Sammy and me….you'll get back here….and you'll apologize. Or we're gone" Dean snarled and slammed the phone down.

Unfortunately Sam had heard every furious word that had dropped from Dean's mouth, every anger induced threat. All of it. He understood that Dean was angry at Daddy, but what did Sam have to do with anything. That part didn't make sense.

At that very moment, Sam knew in his heart that Daddy wasn't coming for him, that Dean's words had come from anger that he didn't care enough to come back.

Sam wasn't as angry as Dean was, he was sad. He thought Daddy loved him, he thought that he cared. Why was he staying away. Why wasn't he coming back?

Sam wanted to be strong and angry as Dean, but he felt too sick and too weak to do anything but cry again. He let out the tiniest of sobs and hugged Woobie closer to him, almost as if the simple blanket may provide some sort of comfort from the pain that came from every where.

He heard a deep sigh from Dean as he walked back in. Slowly, he came around the front of the chair and he knelt down.  
"Hey Sammy….you heard that didn't you?" Dean asked, seeing the look of utter desolation on the 8 year olds face.

"Uh-huh….Daddy's not coming for me….is he?" Sam whimpered.

Dean shook his head sadly, tears coming from his green eyes too, the fight with Dad must have stung him as badly as it stung Sam. He pulled Sammy from the chair and cradled his tiny baby brother's form in his arms, both brother's taking comfort in each other.

"Daddy doesn't love me Dee-Dee. Did…Did…did I do something wrong?" Sam hiccupped.

He felt Dean shake his head, but didn't look up, seeing Dean so upset hurt him inside.

"No….no Sammy. You didn't do anything wrong…it's him…not you." Dean whispered. Sam took another deep shuddering breath, trying desperately to calm down, but it didn't work. It made him feel worse, so instead, he buried himself in Dean's shirt and listened to his heart beat, letting the sound to calm him the steady _thud thump_, the constant rhythm.

"Come on Sammy….you gotta rest" the rough, cracked voice of his older brother broke the serenity but didn't stop the feeling of safety.

So long as he was with Dean, he felt a little better about the fact that his father didn't love him. The eldest brother slowly stood up and walked up the stairs, making soothing noises for Sam's benefit. But Sam wanted to calm Dean down too, he wanted Dean to stop crying.

He clutched Dean's shirt and raised his little head. Dean looked down to inspect the sudden movement. Sam slowly reached up and wiped away the tears from Dean's face, with a tiny smile.

"Don't cry Dee-Dee. It's alright. Sammy's here" he muttered, imitating his brother to the best of his ability. Dean smiled suddenly, the tears flowing again as a small strangled laugh escaped his throat.

Sam again wiped away the new tears and pressed his warm forehead against Dean's cooler one, his little brown eyes close to Dean's jade green ones.

"Shhhh, it's all alright. I'll make it better. I promise Dee-Dee" Sam said softly.

"You….you are an amazing kid Sammy" Dean whispered.

"Shhhh…" Sammy soothed as Dean carried him into his room.

Dean gently lay Sam out in bed and pulled the coverlet up to his chin.

"Now it's my turn Sam. I'll make it alright. I'll fix things with Dad and we'll be alright" Dean switched places with his brother, going from being the comforted to being the comforter.

Sam gladly took back his place and snuggled down under the covers.

"Promise Dee-Dee?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded and brushed the hair back from his face.

They stayed in silence for a little while, forgetting the nightmares and the fights, just wandering in their own thoughts as they sat with each other, Dean absent mindedly stroking his brother's forehead.

"You know what Dean…." Sammy said, his voice quiet and slow.

He was on the verge of sleep, his little body worn out and demanding rest.

"Know what Sam?" Dean asked, his attention coming back to the here and now.

"So long as you love me…..I'll be alright" Sam whispered and his eyes slid closed as he dropped into sleep.

Dean smiled at the simple yet profound words that meant so much to Dean. But the words couldn't possibly be true, perhaps the half truth.

No child could be alright if their father didn't love them. No child, not even Sammy.

Dean somehow managed to drag himself to his own bedroom and rolled into bed. The days events had taken so much out of him, he was surprised that he had been able to stand. But his strength had left him and he'd been unable to stay strong for Sammy. He'd broken down in front of Sam, shown Sam that things couldn't possibly be alright after this. His words that he spat at his father were nothing more than that. Words. He knew that if they left, they'd have no where to go and they'd end up on the streets. Dean couldn't bare to see Sammy any more degraded than he already was, yet he had spoken the truth about one thing. He couldn't watch Sam cry over a broken heart any longer. He couldn't watch his father crush Sam's hopes again, it was just wrong.

He rolled onto his side and closed his sore eyes.

Memories of Sammy trying to comfort him came flooding back. The look of determination in his eyes was beyond his years. The way that he'd gently brushed the tears away and spoken words that Dean had spoken time and time again.

Yet Sam had seemed to use them better, they sounded true. He sounded so sure that he could make everything alright, that he could do Dean's job when he was sad.

'_Why did I have to cry in front of him.' _Dean thought as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Realization hit him like a punch in the gut. Sammy was growing up. No longer was he the little bundle that he'd carried out of the burning house. No longer was he the baby that Dean could keep an eye on. Sammy could walk, Sammy could talk and he was growing up. Dean couldn't watch him all the time, he moved too fast, hid too well and when Dean found him again, he would already be crying.

How could he protect Sam from pain if he couldn't watch him. Sam needed to be in his line of sight of all times, but he wasn't.

And after the night's events, Sam was more grown up than Dean was. Sam was the one offering comfort as he cried.

Scowling at his weakness, Dean rolled onto his side and fisted the pillow in his hand.

'_Just stay a kid…Sam….for a little longer….for me…please'_ Dean thought.

Things couldn't possibly get any worse.

At some point during the night, Dean fell asleep. He slipped into a comforting darkness, that took everything away. It was a good thing, relaxing and calm.

But it could never last, being the light sleeper that he had been trained to be, the slightest of noises woke him up.

Jerking awake to a horrifying noise, for a second he was completely lost. He forgot where he was and for a second, he was rigid with panic.

But soon as that second passed, Dean sat up, the façade of his cool calmness was restored. He focused on the noise, that….horrible noise.

The sound of retching.

'_Oh hell!'_ Dean thought and shot up from bed.

He could swear that his feet didn't touch the ground and he raced for the bathroom.

"Sam?!" Dean called as he reached the open door.

The light was off but some one was home. He heard his little brother whimper slightly, prompting him to turn the light on. Sure enough, exactly as Dean had imagined Sam sat on the tiled floor, his little body slumped over the bowl of the toilet. His skin was shock white and slippery with sweat. A nauseating smell permeated from the porcelain bowl.

Realization attacked Dean with a viciousness that he hadn't known.

Sam had been sick. He'd thrown up, vomited.

_Terrific!!_

"Sammy? Sammy are you alright?" Dean asked as he took a step forwards, but he back-pedalled as soon as Sam began retching again.

Steeling himself against the smell, he strode in and knelt by his heaving brother and put a hand on his forehead. His baby brother was burning with fever.

_Fantastic!!_

"I don't feel s'good Dee-Dee….I don't wanna throw up….it hurts" Sammy whispered, his head still over the bowl of the toilet.

Dean suppressed a groan and cursed himself for falling asleep, letting his little brother get that bad.

"Alright…Sammy…I need you to tell me something alright?" Dean soothed as he rubbed soothing circles on his brother's back.

There was a slight nod from Sam, and Dean continued.

"I am going to go and call the doctor…alright? Bobby warned me about this….he said that if you threw up then I had to call the doctor….how long have you been sick for Sammy?" Dean asked tentatively.

Sam took a few gulping breathes, mixed with sobs of sorrow and fear.

"A long time….I couldn't sleep….I felt too sick….are you sure….the little monster isn't coming?" Sam breathed.

"I'm sure as I am sure you're sick. Okay…I'm just going to leave you here for a second and I'm just going to get the phone….will you be alright?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, and Dean noticed his little fist curling around Woobie that was still with him. He was stressed, the little kid was confused and afraid of what might be happening to him, truth was; so was Dean. Lately, everything that happened to Sammy filled him with fear, everything that he did made him cringe. So the tightening of his grip, made Dean hesitate.

"Is there something else?" Dean asked softly.

"Yeah…..Dee-Dee….something else…." Sam whispered, as he leaned forwards.

Another shudder from Sammy as bile rushed up from his empty stomach, he coughed and gasped and heaved again. Dean sensed his little brother's increasing weakness and grabbed him around the chest from behind, so he could hold him up. All the while, proving to Sam that he was there by making soft, soothing noises.

Finally, after the latest wave of vomiting had subsided, Dean stroked Sam's hair, hating the feeling of damp heat.

"What's the matter Sammy? What else is wrong?" he asked softly.

Sam raised his head and looked at his big brother with baleful eyes.

"My tummy really hurts…Dee-Dee….really…really….._really_ hurts…." Sam whimpered, his grip on Woobie tightening to a strangle hold and Dean was glad that it wasn't him.

A few tears slipped from his eyes just as he heaved again. But nothing more came up, and the heaving ended into a sob.

"Alright Sam. Alright….just let me get the phone. I'm calling the doctor" Dean said as he stood up.

Sam made a small noise of acceptance, allowing Dean to run off.

Despite not liking the doctor, despite loathing him Dean swallowed what was left of his tattered pride and made a reach for the phone.

But just before his fingers brushed the hard white shell of the phone, there was a sharp knocking on the hard wooden door behind him. He froze where he was and turned to look at the door.

'_Who the hell would think of bothering me right at this moment. Why at this moment?!?!_' Dean thought with a few cusses after the original sentence.

With a glance upstairs, he ran for the door and reefed it open.

But all thoughts ceased as he looked up into the dark eyes of his father.


	6. Chapter 6

Alright, you guys want an explanation? Well...I kinda had this thing...call writers block. On this really hard chapter. The one you are about to read. Yeah. Look, I'm really sorry and I wish that it didn't take so long. I hope that I haven't made you mad...cause...that's the last thing I want. I'm sorry...and I SWEAR, I'm hlaf way through the next chapter. It's going to be the revalations chapter...next one...not this one...this one...well...just read...see you in the Authors notes.

* * *

Time seemed to have frozen, as Dean stood in the doorway gazing up at his father. Their eyes were locked and neither seemed quite ready to speak.

Truth was that Dean hadn't expected his father to return home, he hadn't expected his father to believe him. Cause Dean didn't really believe his own words….but he meant them. Now he was staring at his father, trying hard to figure out the emotion that was strongest in him.

Sure, he was angry, he was worried, he was relieved, he was happy, he was sad and he was sorry. But what he felt was some kind of mixture of everything. It was overloading and Dean just fell into backup mode. He would deal with it when it came to it. But Sammy needed help.

"Dean…" John began, slowly almost as if he was testing the water.

He had no idea if Dean was angry or not.

"Dad. I need help. Please. I dunno what to do!" Dean exclaimed, ignoring his father's attempt to reach out and fix the problem.

John, knowing his priorities and being the hunter he was, got down to business.

"What is it?" he asked.

Dean didn't like the idea of telling his father that he needed help. He loathed the idea of admitting some kind of weakness to his Dad. But he was in truth very weak when it came to Sammy.

Protection wise, he was strong.

But when he was in pain, bad pain and there wasn't anything Dean could do. He was weaker than a newborn baby.

"Sam's been throwing up, he's burning up and he said his stomach hurts. I don't know what I should do!" Dean said, explaining quick as he could without tripping over his own tongue.

A second figure appeared in the doorway, his face illuminated by the light from the house.

It was Bobby.

He looked some how older, like he had aged 10 years while he'd been away. Dean gave less than a seconds thought to this as his first concern was the little kid up in the bathroom.

"How long has he been throwing up?" Bobby demanded.

Dean couldn't help but grab the hem of his shirt and screw it up in his hands, fear and worry scraping away the inside of his heart as he thought about what Sammy had said.

"A long time" Dean said, using Sam's exact words.

Instantly Bobby's face darkened and he scowled at Dean.

"A long time?! Why didn't you call the doctor, why did you just let him suffer?" Bobby snarled.

Looking up at Bobby's furious face, Dean cringed and cursed himself again for falling asleep.

"I….I…I…fell….asleep…I….I…..didn't…mean to!" Dean stammered.

Bobby's gaze didn't waver, neither did it soften. It wasn't Bobby that spoke soft words to calm Dean down.

"It's alright Dean. You did all you could" John said softly, giving Bobby a hard look.

Bobby backed off, seeing that it was not his place to scold Dean, it wasn't his place.

Dean had been right over the phone, John was their father.

For the first time in a long time, Dean felt a rush of love for his father.

"Where's Sammy now?" John asked, gently laying a hand on his oldest son's shoulder.

Dean nodded and turned to run up the stairs. He heard John snarl something to Bobby and Bobby say something in answer, then their heavy footsteps following him up.

For the first time in an even longer time, Dean was glad that his father was a hunter.

Dean reached the top of the stairs and called to his little brother, both to affirm that he was there and he was no worse than the last time he'd been sighted.

"Sammy!" he called.

All he received in response was a whimper of unspeakable pain, a whimper that made Dean cringe. He approached the bathroom with measured cautiousness.

"Dad and Bobby are here" Dean said, walking over to the little boy hunched over the toilet bowl.

Sam's eyes were closed and he sat on his knees, swaying gently. One hand still was on the toilet the other was still clasped around Woobie. Beads of sweat were rolling from his forehead and his longish hair was plastered to his head as a result. All in all, he was worse looking than a good portion of what Dean had seen his father hunt.

"Jesus Christ!" Bobby said loudly, soon as he spotted the youngest Winchester.

"What the hell happened! He looks like he's been run over by a truck" he said.

But John was more to the point, he took one glance at Sam and hit over drive. Striding into the small bathroom, he gently moved Dean aside and knelt down. First job was to show Sammy that his father was here.

"Sammy? Hey…kiddo? Can you hear me?" John asked softly, placing a huge paw like hand on the kid's small back.

Dean could see him draw away slightly at the heat that seemed to radiate from him, knowing that it made his father just as afraid as him and Sammy inspired very little comfort in Dean.

Sammy raised his head slightly, his eyes cracking open, as he shifted his light weight. He looked horrible, the pain that was etched into his eyes and face and movements was too much for Dean and he had to look away.

"Dad?" the child muttered, not quite all there.

No doubt the fever had finally taken over him, forcing him into some kind of frightening delirium.

"Yeah Sammy. It's me. It's Dad." John said, he seemed a little earnest that Sammy was talking, but that earnest look was quickly replaced by a look of horror as Sammy began to dry heave into the toilet again.

The sound made Dean's own gag reflex attack him and he tried to swallow the vomit that was rising into his own throat, he did not want to throw up.

"Easy Kiddo" John soothed, attempting to calm the little kid down.

But it didn't really work.

"Dee-Dee….where's Dee-Dee…..did he….did he run away?" Sam whispered, feverish eyes scanning the room for some kind of assurance that Dean hadn't gone and totally left.

Dean couldn't help but notice the look of emotional pain cross John's features as he looked from Sam to his eldest sibling. And at that time Dean didn't understand why.

"No Sammy. I'm still here." Was all he could bring himself to say before he had to suppress the gag reflex again.

"John" Bobby's deep voice sounded and caused both the coherent Winchesters to look at him.

They found a grave looking man, nothing but hard determination in his eyes.

"We need to get him to hospital….and we need to get him there now" Bobby said softly.

Swinging his gaze back to stare at the ailing, now sobbing Sammy over the toilet, Dean heard his father say:

"I know, come on"

Before Dean could really comprehend the situation, he was sitting in the back of the Impala, his arms wrapped around the blanket clad form of his little brother. John was in the driver's seat, foot on the gas pedal and the deep throaty roar of the Impala responded with vengeance.

Upon studying his father's form with the prowess of a hunter, Dean could see the tension and fear in his figure. The way his shoulders were higher than usual, the tight jaw muscles, the way he stared angrily at the road. Dean could only make out the outline and eyes of his father thanks to the lights of the blue Ford tow truck behind them. Bobby was right with them, the thrum of it's engine hardly audible over the roar of an enraged Winchester Impala.

"Dee-Dee"

The soft fevered voice of his eight year old sibling made Dean's head snap down in attention. He was met with mournful brown orbs that were full of fear and glistening slightly in the half light.

"Where are we going" Sam breathed.

It didn't really surprise Dean that Sam had no idea what was happening as he was constantly slipping in and out of coherency and in and out of consciousness. He must have been out when they had told him they were going to the hospital.

"Hospital Sammy. Gonna get you looked at" Dean said softly, not trusting his voice to rise to a higher level.

He had to lean close to Sam as the engine gave a primal roar as it changed gears.

"But….I don't wanna…go to hospital" Sam muttered, meeting Dean's gaze.

"You have to, you're sicker than I've ever been. So…you are going to hospital. So they can make you better….don't you wanna get better Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam shifted slightly in his arms, twisting in the blankets, moving closer to Dean. He could almost feel the kid's heartbeat.

"I don't….wanna….get….better by….hospital…Dee-Dee can make me…better." Sam said, his childish, innocent voice seemed to have some kind of subliminal effect on Dean as tears quickly began to sting his eyes.

He'd made it obvious enough to Sam that day that he wasn't as strong as he appeared, he'd showed too much weakness to the little kid. He didn't want to reveal any thing more.

'_Don't push Sammy'_ he pleaded inwardly, as he hummed slightly to show Sam that he'd been heard.

He made sure to keep his head ducked, so that Sam couldn't see him holding back the tears by biting his lip.

"Can't you?" Sam asked the one question that Dean didn't want to hear.

To make matters worse, the tone of Sam's voice was so breakable that it made Dean choke. He was able to smother the sound slightly, but still he was unable to stop the tears from welling in his eyes.

"No Sammy" he breathed, softly and gently "I can't".

He was trying as hard as he could not to upset Sam any more than necessary but he felt as if the kid was made of tissue paper and any sort of threat would tear him apart; making him irreparable.

He could feel Sammy tense and his little head lowered back to his chest, too weak and tired to say much more. It made Dean's heart scream and cry and bash against his ribs furiously.

"Not far now" John's deep baritone floated through the car, and although it was meant to sound like a comfort, it sounded more like a taunt.

Like it was always going to be _'not far now'_ or an _'almost there'_.

Dean clenched his fists angrily, desperately trying to remind himself that these two adults were friends and were trying to help. In fact that one of the adults was his father.

"How's Sammy?" John asked, obviously tired of the awkward silence between the two coherent Winchesters in the car.

Dean swallowed the bitter ball of fury and tears and raised his eyes to the back of his father's head.

"Sick" he said shortly.

He caught his father's glance at him through the rear view mirror, he saw the pain in his eyes that Dean was still mad at him. Mad was an understatement. Dean was furious, but he knew also that Sammy would not get better if he knew that he was still waring with his Dad.

Sammy hated it when they fought, Dean could see it, and Dean hated fighting with his Dad, but lately everything John did was just so wrong and Dean had to speak out.

"How about you Dean? How are you?" John asked uneasily.

'_How could he even think about me when Sam's so sick?!'_ Dean thought

"I'm fine." Dean spat, returning his gaze to Sam, to give himself something to calm him down.

It felt like a giant wave of fire that rose up inside of him, whenever his father said something. It pushed against his insides in some sort of attempt to get out and burn his father to a crisp. It took all of Dean's strength to keep it down deep inside him, packing ice around the inferno. But it just kept getting stronger.

"Alright" John sighed as he glanced balefully at Dean again through the mirror.

So they kept on driving. Bobby following them closely as they made tracks for the nearest hospital.

* * *

Okay. Authors Notes...yeah. This is the second last chapter guys. Last chapter and then an epilogue. I hope you guys can forgive me. Here, I offer an imaginary Sammy and Dee-Dee. Just you know...skip the imaginary part and there!! You've got the real things. Awwww man...I'm babbling. Hope you enjoyed and forgiveness is love...so is reviews. HAHA! 


	7. Chapter 7

Final Chapter People...sadness. Oh well...much revealed...much to be explained...perhaps a sequal...I dunno. But...this is the last chapter...only the epilogue to go. Thank you so much for all the support...I really can't you...know...get to all of you...but consider yourself hugged and please...review your hearts out. Love me...and I'll write more. Tell me what you want...and I'll see if I can do it right. Wait for the epilogue...please?

* * *

Patience had never been one of Dean's strong suits.

Especially when Sammy was involved, whether it was for an application for Sammy's school, or waiting for the kid to calm down from a nightmare.

Dean never had patience when it came to Sam.

And now was no exception.

Sammy had been carried in, cradled in his fathers arms. Dean had never heard his father yell so loud, nor had he ever heard his father yell for help. Bobby hadn't said a word, but his eyes spoke the volumes of concern he had.

The doctors and nurses had come out, like swarming ants from an ant hill and whisked Sammy away. Faster than Dean had ever seen.

Things must have been serious. And it killed Dean to know that he was probably the only one who didn't have a clue what was wrong with Sammy, other than Sammy himself.

"Dad….what's wrong with Sam?" Dean asked, faintly and without too much thought behind it.

He didn't even bother looking up, but he did feel his father's eyes turn to him and scrutinize his stature.

Dean knew that he should probably try and look a little more manly, a little stronger and a little more in control. But he couldn't bring himself to try and maintain an image that was really an illusion.

"You don't need to worry about that Dean" was John's response.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to swallow the salty ball of tears that had re-lodged itself in his throat.

The inferno inside his belly had reduced to a pitiful ember that seemed to quiver along with his body, not only had his flames of anger died, but his strength seemed to have left him too.

"Don't….please….just tell me what's the matter with my baby brother…please" Dean sighed wearily.

Even Dean himself was even surprised at how old he sounded, how worn out and tired of living he sounded.

He could sense John's eyes on him, and even Bobby's cold, grey eyes were soft and sympathetic. But for a while, neither of them seemed willing to talk. They just sat and gazed at the twelve year old who had taken so much in the past day and a bit.

"Dean…" Bobby began.

But Dean could sense an excuse coming from a mile away.

"No excuses…don't you think I deserve to know?" Dean asked softly, not finding the strength in him to yell and demand and rant and rave.

"Alright, son. You have every right to know." John said softly.

He moved from his seat to the floor; kneeling in front of Dean. Slowly he raised a hand, hesitating slightly to see if Dean flinched away. But his son made no such movement and John settled his hand on Dean's shoulder. The soft look in his dark eyes was strangely foreign yet at the same time comforting and seemingly belonging.

"Dean…you need to relax….and remain calm….what Sammy has is serious….life threatening serious…" John explained slowly.

"Then why didn't Bobby take him to the hospital when he found out" Dean asked.

"Cause with this….it doesn't necessarily get this bad. Sometimes people can get over it, sometimes they don't. He wasn't sure what to do and from the news reports, the hospitals only really accept emergencies. So….he couldn't do anything but wait." John said, explaining gently and softly, adhering to Dean's fragile state.

Although he was speaking softly, Dean could sense he was still being treated like an adult.

"What is it?...Will Sammy be alright?!" Dean asked softly, terror thundering through his body.

What could possibly have gotten Sammy so sick and what could have possibly been causing all these problems.

Bigger question, why hadn't they taken Sam to the hospital as a simple precaution.

John sighed and lowered his head slightly, looking away from Dean at Bobby for some reason beyond Dean's comprehension.

"Kiddo. Have you ever heard of your appendix?" he asked softly.

Dean tilted his head to one side, considering the question. Appendix….he'd heard the word before. But couldn't really place where or what it did. He knew now that it had something to do with Sammy being so sick.

"Sorta" he said, dragging the word out to emphasis his unsureness.

He didn't realize how badly he was shaking.

"Well, the appendix is a small little….erm….thing in the body. Yeah? No one really knows what it does, but sometimes it can be a little difficult or…you know…get inflamed. But Sam's has gone a little further than that." John said softly, making eye contact with Dean.

Dean frowned, shaking his head slightly. Confused at the words, almost as if it didn't make sense. He didn't understand. If Sammy's appendix had gone further than inflammation, then why wasn't Sam in the hospital as soon as he complained of sickness and pain.

"But? Why was Sam left…why didn't you do something?" Dean asked, hating how accusatory those words sounded, yet in truth it was an accusation against them both.

"A ruptured appendix can be confused with many things Dean. And you of all people know that we cannot afford to stay in one place. I didn't recognize the symptoms and Bobby only found out that it was the appendix not long ago." John said.

'_Ruptured? That sounds real bad!'_ Dean thought quickly

"But why didn't he take Sam to the hospital as soon as he knew?!" Dean interrupted.

"That phone call at my house, was from the doctor. Yet he had miss interpreted the symptoms too. I was out….taking care of that job when he called me back. As soon as I heard, you called, Dean. I made a decision to come back. I met John on the way back and we came together." Bobby said.

Yet being trained as a hunter, Dean could see the deception in his eyes, and the slight glances at his father told him that he was lying about something big.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but he was never was able to get out the words as a doctor walked out of a room down the hall. He looked around and upon seeing them, walked towards them.

Mouth running dry and all questions dying on his tongue Dean swallowed and blinked a few times. He suddenly felt very small and weak. Almost as if he didn't matter to the world, that the whole world was mocking him. This man was coming to them with news about his kid brother, upon this man hinged Sam's young life. Life and death.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breathe, yet his memory had taken a vivid photo of the doctors sombre looking face.

"Mr. Winchester?" the doctor's deep voice sounded, breaking the tense silence between the hunters.

Dean kept his eyes tightly closed and wished as hard as he could for Sammy to be alright.

"Yeah" John said softly, the sound of scraping chairs on the floor indicating that they had stood up.

"Erm…there is no easy way to say this…but….I'm afraid that this situation is far worse than first anticipated. We are going to have to go in and remove the infected material. Sam is a little weak for it, but we can't wait" the doctor said.

Dean couldn't help but let out a whimper at the mention of surgery. He didn't want doctors cutting up his little brother, this wasn't meant to happen. All that was wrong with Sam was that he was a little sick. He had the Flu and nothing more. There wasn't any need for surgery, and the doctors were wrong.

But why wasn't Dean ever right when it came to Sammy.

"Dean?" he heard his name coming from his father's throat and he spared a second to open his eyes slightly.

Instantly tears began to well up and Dean suppressed a sob, with a shake of the head.

"I…I don't want Sammy…..Sammy to be cut….." Dean managed through a less than co-operative throat.

He saw the doctor give him a pitying look, yet he preferred the simple nod that John gave.

"Dean, they have to do this…" Bobby began.

Yet Dean was not looking for comfort, he was more or less demanding something. That something being not to cut Sam open.

"NO! No you can't! I won't let you!! Sammy just has the Flu!! NOTHING ELSE!! You don't need to cut him OPEN!!" Dean snarled, coming out a little louder and angrier than intended.

Bobby's face darkened and he opened his mouth to tell Dean off, yet John put his hand up to stop Bobby.

"Let me talk to him" he said softly and moved forwards.

He snagged Dean's wrist and dragged him a little way away from the others. Where he proceeded to kneel down and take Dean by the shoulders.

"Kiddo…they need to do this…" he began.

Dean shook his head quickly and John fell silent.

"No. Sammy only has the Flu! He doesn't have appendix! He's only got the FLU! Why WON'T YOU BELIEVE ME?" Dean yelled, stamping his foot.

He felt like a child, yet he had to be right. Sammy was only a kid. He wasn't meant to get this sick. He wasn't certainly not meant to be cut open by doctors.

This time Dean had to be right.

John gave him a frank look, a deep look yet full of sorrow.

"I know you wanna be right Dean….but…Sammy is really sick. He's gonna die if they don't do this. He'll get a hell of a lot worse and then he'll die Dean. If they operate on him, then Sammy will get better." John explained softly.

"But he's only a kid! He can't do that! I can't let that happen to him" Dean reasoned.

"Why can't that happen to him?" John asked.

"He'll be scared! And you told me not to let him be scared. Keep him safe, keep him safe, keep him safe. That's all I've ever been told to do. If I let this happen Dad! He'll be scared. He won't be safe anymore!" Dean said, using his logic to end this conversation.

But from the look on his father's face, John didn't agree.

"Dean….is it that you are worried Sam will be afraid….or is it that you are afraid for him?" John asked.

All thoughts stopped. Dean thought about the preposition and knew the answer almost immediately. Dean wasn't afraid for Sam. He was terrified for Sam. The thought of Sammy laying on a cold metal table, a stranger just about to cut him open chilled him to the bone.

"That's not the point!" Dean snapped.

"Yes it is" John said, his tone bordering on condescension.

Again Dean was dumbfounded by his father's stubbornness. Why was he fighting him on this, when he was so obviously right.

At that moment logic wasn't the thing coming to Dean's mind. His only impulse was to buck the authority.

"Why are you arguing with me for!" Dean snarled.

"Cause you are wrong Dean. And you need to know that. This isn't about you. This is about Sammy. I know what's going on. I've seen it before. You haven't. Dean…..you have to accept this. We have to put aside our problems and be there for Sam. Together. Not separate" John said, all seemingly in one breath.

Dean shut his mouth, knowing that he was right. Yet it wasn't the right time to argue. There was plenty of time for that later. His father was right.

"Alright" he sighed, tears shaking his voice slightly.

"Are you accepting of this now Dean? Do you understand?" John asked suspiciously.

"I suppose. I just…I just don't want Sam to be afraid…that's all" Dean said, relenting in his solitary worries.

"Sam might be afraid, but he will be in the best of hands and you can see him before and after surgery. We'll stay with him until he can leave and come with us. Alright?" John asked.

Dean nodded mutely, blinking back the burning tears.

John squeezed his son's shoulder slightly and gave him a small smile.

"He'll be fine." John said as he stood up.

Slowly they walked back to the doctor, where Dean felt the uneasy feeling settle into his stomach for the long haul.

The doctor led them down the long hall that he had come from. He walked quickly and without delay, almost as if they were running out of time.

Dean didn't know why they had to walk quick, and it occurred to him that what he did know, was so little that he didn't understand it.

When he was older, he was going to understand everything, that much he was going to make sure of.

John and Bobby walked behind Dean, almost like his guards, like they were prepared for him to try and make a run for it.

The doctor came to an abrupt halt at the very end of the hall way, stopping the rest of the group where they were. Dean looked up curiously at the doctor to try and read his expression.

But being a doctor his expression was blank and emotionless, that practised expression that they had, like the proxy expression.

It really made Dean mad.

"I'm sorry, but only one of you can go in. He's not well enough to see more than one person right now." The doctor informed in a neutral voice.

Dean turned to look up at his father and Bobby who were looking at each other. Finally John looked back to the doctor.

"Dean should go" he announced, much to Dean's surprise.

Bobby smiled down at Dean, a sort of tight smile that was forced upon his face and it made Dean shrink back slightly.

"You should go….Sammy would want you with him" John said, interrupting Dean and Bobby's stare off.

Dean simply nodded, too busy wondering why all of a sudden he was terrified of Bobby.

He turned back to the doctor, ignoring the glassy glare and listened to the warnings.

"He's going to be pretty scared son….but we've managed to get his fever down a little. So…don't be afraid of him…okay son?" the doctor said.

Despite the resentment Dean had at being called 'son' he nodded and turned to the door, keeping his mouth tightly sealed.

Slowly he then walked forwards and pushed open the door. He stepped through the doorway and allowed the door to swing shut behind him.

Whiteness assaulted his vision straight away and he narrowed his eyes against the invasion. Everything was pure, stark white.

The bed, the floor, the roof, the walls. Everything was white and it made Dean more than long for the old dusty smell and dirty house of Bobby Singer.

Yet his objective was laying in the bed, the smallest of lumps of darkness.

A small sniffle escaped Sam's form and his little body juddered slightly. Instantly, Dean started over to him.

"Sammy?" he called softly, not wanting to scare the little guy.

He seemed scared enough already.

"Dee?" came the muffled reply, as the small bundle of darkness turned over in bed and looked mournfully at his older brother.

Huge glistening eyes pierced his soul and Dean winced inwardly at the amount of fear and pain there.

"Hey there kiddo! Good to see you again" Dean said, putting up the bravest of fronts for his little brother to hang onto.

Yet Sammy reached out for Dean, little pink hands clasping the air before him as he sniffed again.  
"Dee-Dee….m'scared Dee-Dee" he whimpered and in a flash, Dean had him in his arms.

'_This is what I was afraid of'_ he thought angrily as he frowned.

"It's alright kiddo…I'm here now. Nothing is going to get you at all. Ever. Cause Dean is here now? Huh?" Dean asked, tousling Sam's dark hair.

Sam nodded slightly, before curling up into a ball as close as he could get to Dean.

They remained near each other for a long time, just relaxing in each other's embrace, drawing off the supposed good will of the other.

"Promise me it'll be alright…." Sammy begged.

Realistically Dean could not do that. He had no idea what was going to happen, nor did he now whether or not Sam was actually going to get better if they did this to him.

He didn't have that much trust in anyone but himself and Sammy. Here he was relying on a whole different party of people.

His father, Bobby, the hospital and the surgeons.

But he couldn't bear to see Sammy so crushed and terrified just because Dean was unsure of something. So he smiled and nodded.

"Of course Sammy. You'll be alright. Nothing bad is going to happen as long as I am with you" Dean said, resting his chin on top of Sam's head.

This seemed to calm the eight year old as he fell silent after that.

"It's time to go" the doctor said from the now slightly open door.

Dean looked up, realizing that he'd been with Sammy for a little over 5 minutes. Yet as he moved, Sam whimpered and tightened his grip on his shirt.

"Don't go Dee" he breathed.

Tears made the little kid's high voice, higher still and it made Dean's throat constrict painfully.

"I have to kiddo. I can't stay here all day" Dean said softly, gently unwrapping himself from Sam's arms.

He felt Sam slowly let go and wished that it wasn't so. He wished so hard that he felt his own heart breaking.

"Dee…do me a favour……please?" Sam asked tentatively.

"Of course Sam." Dean said, automatically, not worried about what it was.

"Could….you please. Look after Woobie for me….the doctors say that I can't take him in with me….but I don't want him to get lost…and I know you'll look after him good….so please….Dee…look after Woobie?" Sam asked softly, holding out the tattered and worn blanket.

Dean hesitated slightly, not because he didn't want to take Woobie, it was just the emotion of the whole situation was getting a little thick. A little more than suffocating.

But Sammy took the hesitation as a no and lowered his little head, his outstretched arm falling as he let out a small sob.

"No. No Sammy. I'll look after him…I promise" Dean said, feeling like a failure for letting Sam believe that he wouldn't be there for him for even a second.

He gently grabbed hold of the warm material and took it from Sam's hand. The child raised his head and gave him the smallest of smiles.

"Keep him safe….thank you Dee-Dee" Sam said.

Dean smiled at Sam, a more confident grin than he could actually muster consciously. He leaned down and kissed his brother on the top of his head.

"You'll be alright" Dean said.

"I love you Dee" Sam whispered as he clung needily to Dean's night shirt.

"I love you too kiddo….now….I wanna see you after this is all over…okay?" Dean said, breaking the emotion with a little spark of humour.

He felt Sam give a small laugh under him and he smiled.

At least he could do something right by Sam.

The plastic chair was merciless and unforgiving on Dean's ass and lower back. It hurt like hell and at the same time was numb. Either from emotional over load or the long term weight, Dean didn't know.

All he did was sat there and stared at the small blanket that Sam had given him to look after.

He held it tightly in fisted hands, afraid that if he let go he would loose it and a lot more. It seemed to him that if he held on tight and kept and eye on it at all times, Sammy would stay alive and everything would eventually be okay.

Gently, he rubbed his thumb over the soft material.

The blanket was made from a soft woollen material, the deepest of ocean blue. The edges of the blanket were once shining satin that was the darkest of navy blue. It used to shimmer in the morning light as he held it above his head and laugh.

Dean had been small then and the blanket new. His mother had gotten it for his cot but when it Dean had gotten too big for the cot and they had to buy him a new bed it had run out of uses. Yet Dean had been reluctant to get rid of it and it became his comfort during long cold nights, or so his father had said.

Dean could remember the fond look on his mothers face when he'd begged to keep it. They way she'd smiled and chuckled to herself. His father had simply smiled and left the decision up to Mary.

During the four years that his mother was alive, she often read to him from books. Fairy tales and lullabies from old books that smelled of dust and his mother.

While she read he kept the blanket close to his face, allowing the cool satin binding to rub up against his face and the warm woollen material to warm his body.

It had comforted him as much as his mother had, it had made her smile to see him so attached to something.

It had been new, and he had been new.

Now it was old as he was. It's ocean blue soft wool was faded and torn in areas, it's navy blue satin now ripped and fraying and worn with many years of love it too faded with the years of play amongst the Winchester clan.

Yet, as much as John said that it had to go; that it had to be thrown out. That it was old and ripped and useless.

Sammy treasured it the most out of all his possessions. Most of the time it was on his person and he kept it close to him any other time.

Sammy had been given the blanket when Dean had turned eight, and Sam had cherished it from the moment it touched his little hands.

It had been with Sammy so long that it had picked up its own distinct Sammy scent, and it calmed Dean's fraught nerves.

He raised it to his face and breathed deep the sweet childish innocent scent of Sam and the blanket.

He risked closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds and loosing himself to the smell of happier times and laughter and giggles and a healthy Sam.

But it was all torn down by the sudden sound of Bobby and John.

Dean had been alone for a long time. The adults had left to discuss something, and it was only now that they were coming back. In truth, Dean just wanted to be left alone.

He opened his jade green eyes just in time to see Bobby storm around the corner, followed closely by a dark faced John.

They were fighting. About what, Dean didn't know. All he did know was that it was a waste of time.

"Shut up John!" Bobby snarled.

"But it is true Singer! I've researched it long enough to know it is true! It's what I was chasing before you so rudely interrupted me!" John snapped.

Dean raised an eyebrow slightly.

'_So that's where Bobby went…he went to help Dad'_ Dean thought.

"If I recall you were the one that called me for help Winchester!" Bobby said angrily.

"I didn't expect you to come out! All it was, was a simple werewolf bite!" John said.

"Next thing you know! You are a werewolf John! If I hadn't come when I did…you would be a big hairy, ugly stinking, werewolf right now! Being hunted by every hunter in the USA!" Bobby said.

Lucky there was no one around, as these two where not gonna spare anything to hurl at the other.

Dean lowered his head and tried desperately to return to a better time; no one needed this. Least of all Sam.

"I would have been fine!" John said indignantly.

"Oh really?! You are NOT invincible Winchester! Or haven't you figured that out yet?! No one is invincible! I should think that this whole situation should be a wake up call for you!" Bobby said.

John released an animalistic snarl and took a few steps towards the old hunter.

"You have some nerve Singer! Cause if I recall….you were the one that bailed out on the boys as soon as you could! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT" John yelled.

"MY FAULT? IT'S YOUR FAULT" Bobby yelled back.

Dean shuddered, anger burning through his veins.

They were acting like children, shifting the blame between the other. This was not about whose fault it was. That could be dealt with later. At that moment, they all should be worrying about little Sam; who all this was really about.

So before John could start to launch another insult at Bobby, Dean shot up from his chair, slamming it back into the wall.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" he roared.

Silence fell as both the men looked at Dean as if he were a ghost.

Yet Dean was unfazed by their shocked expressions as he was furious. How could these two men that were so close to Sam, be so pig headed and selfish to fight at a time when Sam needed peace most desperately.

Dean felt the soft wool inside his fisted hands and it spurred him on.

"Stop fighting! No one needs this! LEAST OF ALL SAM. WE SHOULD BE LOOKING AFTER HIM. NOT FIGHTING!!" Dean yelled, his voice echoing loudly off the walls.

No doubt someone that wasn't meant to hear him, had heard him. But nothing mattered. Dean just had to make these men see that they were so wrong in what they were doing.

Bobby huffed angrily and turned on his heel before storming out of the hospital.

Dean watched him go with something measuring contempt before he turned back to his father. He was surprised to see a deep seated look of shame set into his once shameless face.

"You're right son" John sighed.

Dean was taken aback. Since when had he ever been right under his father's rule. Or…at least since he turned 12. They had been waring for 7 months and this was the first time Dean had actually been able to win something with his father.

"I am?" he asked softly.

John sighed deeply again and sat heavily down in the chair beside Dean.

"Yes….you are very right Dean. You have been….about a lot of things…..I was just so intent on being right….that….that what you said didn't matter. M'sorry about the past 7 months kid….but…its…its just….we've been looking for this thing for so long. And we still haven't found anything….it's really getting to me" John said, his voice thick with emotion.

Dean was unsure as to what to say, he had no right to comfort his father as he was the son. But, his father needed comforting and after all….Dean did love the bastard. How could he not, when they were family. So he slowly sat down beside his father.

"It's alright…we'll get it someday…but we have to have patience" Dean said softly, knowing full well that he was contradicting himself and being a total hypocrite.

But he had to say it, if no one else would think it.

John looked over at Dean slyly, with pride in his eyes. Real and unabashed pride.

"You're a smart kid Dean. You know that?" he asked.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly, before giving him a lopsided grin.

"I keep telling people, but no one seems to believe me" he joked.

John laughed out loud and wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulder.

"You're not only a smart kid…but a cheeky one too." He said.

"I learned from the best" Dean said.

John smiled.

But, Dean suddenly felt the laughter and jokes to be very, very shallow of him. Here he was, joking and laughing with his father, while his little brother was laying in the operating theatre, possibly loosing his life.

He sighed deeply and hung his head.

"What?" John asked, concern in his voice.

"It's just….I don't know what's happening to Sammy….he could be dying for all I know…and here I am laughing…." Dean said angrily, twisting a good portion on Woobie into his fist.

John watched the action with a knowing look. He then gave Dean a small shake to bring him out the guilt spiral.

"Look….Sammy will be fine. He's a really strong kid. He'll make it through and be fine on the other side. After all he is a Winchester" John said.

"I suppose" Dean said, considering this and how it wasn't really going to make a difference if he was a Winchester or a Curmi or a Allen or a Booth or even a Nunez.

It was nothing more than a last name and it didn't have an effect on how strong he was.

"And don't you think Sam would be happy that we are getting along again?" John asked.

Dean let out a small, rueful bark of laughter.

"Yeah. He would be hyper about it" Dean said softly, thinking about other times.

Before long, both the Winchesters were thinking about long forgotten memories of the little boy that was in so much danger now.

About how he first broke his wrist when playing with Dean, or about how the first time he managed to knock Dean over…with a little help from Daddy of course.

Sam seemed to make everything brighter in their family. And when he wasn't there, everything was a shade or blank or white. There was no happiness and there was no right to laugh.

Nothing but the monotonous movements of the hunt.

Dean frowned.

God….how he missed Sammy.

He turned his eyes to the blanket in his hands and took comfort in the arm of his father's that was around his shoulders. He wasn't so alone anymore. But he still felt scared.

"Mr. Winchester?" a voice broke the reveries of both Dean and John and they looked up simultaneously.

A surgeon stood before them, staring at them over glasses that where half way down his nose. Again, there was the purposefully blank expression on the doctor's face that inspired a little hate inside Dean.

"Yes?" John said hesitantly.

"I am Samuel's Surgeon. Doctor Terrafall. I have news about Sam" the surgeon said neutrally.

John rose to his feet, Dean copying his father's movements as they waited impatiently for the outcome of the surgery.

Crushing defeat and loneliness and over whelming happiness and jubilation lined up inside Dean and listened intently.

"Go on" John muttered softly.

Dean could feel the tension rolling off his father in waves. Yet he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the man before him.

"We were a little concerned about how unstable Samuel's condition was when he arrived in theatre, yet…..he has proven to be a strong child….one of the strongest I have seen for quite a while. I am proud to announce that your son has made it through surgery without any complications and he is now resting in the Recovery Unit, expected to make a full recovery with a few weeks" the surgeon said.

Relief washed over Dean as he let out a breath he'd been holding in unconsciously.

Sammy was going to be alright.

That's all that mattered.

Dean didn't notice that he was falling, until his father's strong hands grabbed hold of him and helped him back up and into a seat.

"Easy son. Take it easy" John said softly.

The surgeon cast John a critical look.

"He's a little overwhelmed, that's all…." John said, narrowing his eyes at the accusatory surgeon.

The man simply nodded and walked away.

Dean took a few deep breathes, before letting out a small whoop of joy.

"He's going to be okay Dad! He's going to be alright!!" Dean said happily, smiling properly for the first time in a while.

John grinned back, real happiness within his ebony eyes.

"Yeah….I knew the tyke would do it. Come on….he's in the recovery Unit. Let's be there, when he wakes up." John said standing up.

He offered a hand to Dean and the younger of the two present Winchesters took it without thought.

At that moment, he was happy to do anything.

If he was asked to, he'd probably fly to the moon and back on a bird. Or swim in the Arctic sea.

Anything.

Just because Sammy was alright.

Dean hardly remembered the trip down to the Recovery Unit as he was too busy bounding up and down on the balls of his feet.

He considered all the angst and tears that had been shed during that night and how relieved and happy he was now that Sam was alright.

Not only was Sam alright, but he'd made some sort of peace with his father and no longer felt the resentment towards the man as he had before.

Everything he'd done, he'd done for their own good. And if it wasn't, Dean couldn't blame the man for getting wrapped up in the heat of the hunt. Cause that stuff was like a drug.

One little taste and you're hooked. Especially if you were a Winchester.

'_Yeah. Being a Winchester must make you different. Make you stronger. It matters a hell of a lot!'_ Dean thought through the haze of hyperactivity in his brain.

He vaguely heard his father talking to someone, as they stood at a large desk. He heard a woman laugh and saw her point to a small room that was just in beside them.

Dean laughed and ran over to the door, before John could say anything.

"Hey! Wait up there Deuce." John said happily, jogging across the room to catch up to his son.

Dean looked back watching his father come over.

"I was told that he's about to wake up." John said.

Dean nodded and pushed open the door and walked inside. He heard John walk in behind him.

His eyes locked onto his little brother, still the same darkish lump that lay in the bed. Standing out against the stark whiteness and making the room appear a little more fuller.

Dean crept over to him, a little apprehensive all of a sudden. He didn't want to really disturb Sammy too much as no doubt he was weak. He wondered how much he'd hurt after all the pain killers wore off.

John though, was smiling as he looked down on Sam.

"He looks a lot better….a lot healthier and a lot more peaceful now" John said softly.

He ghosted a hand over Sam's forehead and smiled even wider at the lack of fever there.

Dean stiffened as he watched Sam shift slightly, moaning as he came around. He looked up at his father and John gave a small nod.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, laying his bigger hand over Sammy's smaller one.

Instantly he got a reaction, as Sammy moaned again and squirmed under the covers. He whimpered stilled again as the movement burned his new wound.

"Sammy come on kiddo" Dean enticed, softly as he gently caressed the small digits of Sam's small hand.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, clouded hazel irises focused upon Dean and John.

A small smile crossed his face as he blinked sleepily.

Dean looked up at his father with a grin and John winked at his older son.

"Hey there Kiddo" John said softly.

Sam watched them for a second before he said anything. He gazed at John and then his eyes locked onto Dean and he smiled a little wider.

"Hi" he breathed, before his little eyes drooped closed.

He looked like he was 4 again, trying desperately to stay awake and be a big boy like his brother and his father.

"You need some sleep Sammy." Dean said, voicing his and his father's thoughts.

Yet the noise seemed to rouse Sam again as he opened his eyes slightly and stared at Dean with something that resembled expectancy. Dean raised his eyebrow in a silent question.

"Can I have Woobie back Dee-Dee?" Sam asked.

Dean couldn't help but laugh at his brother's audacity. He lay a hand on Sam's forehead and grinned happily.

"Sure you can kiddo….when you catch me" Dean said slyly.

Sam smiled back at him, before Dean gently placed the blanket in his brother's hand, where Sam instantly clasped onto not only the blanket but the warm digits of Dean's hand.

"Love you" he whispered.

"Yeah….I know you do. Love you to Sammy" Dean said.

"Get some sleep Sam. You need it" John said.

"Love you Daddy" the little boy said before John could say anything more.

"I do too Sammy. Now go to sleep. Me and Deuce will be here for ya." John said.

As Sam dropped into a deep, peaceful sleep. Dean smiled happily. He felt a little better about all the mistakes he'd made over the past few days. Sammy was on the mend and their father was back with them and didn't seem too eager to leave them anytime soon. When Sam woke up again, he'd tell the little kid proudly about how they had made up and were no longer fighting.

He could already imagine the next town and the next hotel they would stay in.

He could imagine Sammy's giggles as Dean did stupid things, made sarcastic jokes and snide comments.

He could imagine laughing at Sammy's innocence and the insane conclusions he came up with.

He couldn't wait.

THE END

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So...that's the last Chapter people. Only epilogue and I am almost there. Hope you loved it as much as I did. But...sadness that it is over. Review please...and Dean will love you...and Sam will too!!! 


	8. Epilouge

This is it...the end. It's over!! No more. I'm really sad now...I'm gonna miss you all. But...you know...it's all gotta end some time. It's alright...don't cry. It ends good. I hope...hope you like it and review please...if you like it...some ones gotta know...that would be me!! Love and reviews.

* * *

EPILOGUE

A week had passed since Dean had seen Sam pull through the surgery. 5 days after that Sam had been lain up in the hospital bed, asleep and awake. Night and day. Whether he wanted to be there or not.

But he'd been released two days ago and they had gotten back on the road.

They were currently residing in Richardson, Texas. In a cramped motel room, while their father was preparing for a hunt.

Dean stood over the sink, his hands submerged in the soapy water as he washed the dishes up from dinner. He stood there, staring at the frothing foam and the shining bubbles as his father sat behind him at the kitchen table, head down as he read from his journal.

They remained silent, content with the way things had progressed over the past few days. The only regret was that they hadn't spoken to Bobby. After their episode at the hospital there had been no word from the old hunter and that made John a little sad.

Dean didn't blame Bobby for what had happened; he had. But he'd come to see the error of his thoughts and realized that this was the way things had happened and no one was really to blame.

In short, he'd gotten over it.

"DEEEEE!!" a squeal was heard from the room nearest to John.

A squeal form his little brother.

Dean looked up and over his shoulder at the noise and noticed that his father had done the same. Both of them watched the other room that concealed little Sammy.

"DEE-DEE!!" Sam yelled again and this time Dean moved.

He pulled his hands from the water and wiped them on the tea towel before moving past his father to the closed door.

"What's up?" he called through the wood.

He heard a frustrated growl from his baby brother and frowned slightly in bemusement.

"I need help!" Sam responded quickly and Dean's hand was on the door handle.

He pushed open the door and walked through, shutting it behind him. He swore he heard his father chuckle slightly.

Dean saw his little brother standing at the end of one of the three beds, a frustrated look upon his face.

"What have you done?" Dean sighed as he folded his arms.

Sam shot him a look before he looked back down.

"I've lost Woobie" he muttered tersely.

Dean raised an eye brow in silent question before he decided to ask the obvious.

"How'd you do that?" he asked.

"I was sitting on the floor, playing with him and that car…..then…then I accidentally threw him under the bed…and I can't reach him….cause my tummy hurts when I do" Sam explained.

Dean knew that Sam would usually crawl under the bed and retrieve the blanket, but since the operation Sam had found that he couldn't do a lot of things that he used to.

School was out of the question, so was playing in the park, climbing a tree, training, and even crawling into spaces only he could fit into.

Dean sighed in a melodramatic fashion and shifted his weight to his other leg.

"You are a dumbass you know that?" Dean asked.

"Then what does that make you?" Sam squeaked.

Dean couldn't hide the smirk that came onto his face when he heard his brother's retort. It had been so long since he'd heard that. God, how bad he'd missed it.

"Fine! On one condition!" Dean said, holding up a finger.

Sam nodded cautiously, knowing his brother was about to palm off some of his work load to him in exchange for retrieving the precious blanket.

"You…you have to help me wipe up" Dean said smugly.

Sam frowned and folded his little arms.

"That's not fair!" he huffed.

"Then you obviously don't want Woobie back" Dean said as he turned around.

Though he didn't move and would get the blanket even if Sammy didn't agree, Sammy sighed deeply.

"Alright…..I'll help…." Sam muttered, not enjoying the certain look of triumph on his older brother's face.

Dean turned around, grinning broadly.

"Sure. I'll get the blanket for you kiddo" he said, and walked over. He knelt down and lay on his belly, then reached under the bed and felt around for the material.

While he did so, he noticed his little brother fall silent, oddly silent.

But before he was able to say a word, his fingers brushed up against the familiar material of the old blanket and he grabbed onto it and dragged it out.

He got back onto his knees and then turned to Sam with a knowing smile on his face as he waved the blanket around.

"Here we are" he said, but stopped his act when he saw the troubled look on Sam's young face.

The kid had his head down low, his eyes obscured by his longish honey brown bangs. He was twisting the hem of his T-Shirt nervously around his small fingers as he bit his lip.

"Hey…what's that look for?" Dean asked, leaning forwards.

Sam looked up slightly, then looked back at the ground.

"I've been thinking" he said softly, barely above the noise of passing cars outside.

Dean lowered his head slightly, trying to catch Sam's eyes.

"That's never a good thing. What about Sammy?" he asked gently, proclaiming his willingness to listen.

Slowly, Sam raised his head and gazed at Dean's eyes.

"Bobby hasn't called….where is he?" he asked, obviously scared.

This was a question that Dean had hoped Sam would ignore, at least until John and Bobby made up. But this little kid had an over active mind and this had been bugging him for some time by the looks of things.

"Erm….well….you see….Dad and Bobby…kinda….kinda had this…this fight" Dean said hesitantly, scratching at the back of his neck.

Sam seemed to slump forwards slightly.

"Oh…" he muttered.

Suspicious of something else bugging Sam, Dean put a hand on his little shoulder.

"What is it?" he asked.

Sam took a deep breath and then let it out.

"Everyone fights around me….you….and me….you and Dad…..Dad and Bobby….why do I cause so much trouble?" Sam asked.

Dean frowned, wondering why on earth this could be bothering Sam, why on earth it could possibly bother anyone. But he reminded himself that Sam was a child and his logic was not as apt as someone older. So he decided to explain slowly.

"Sammy….you don't cause trouble…it's not your fault" Dean said.

"But why does it happen?!" Sam asked hurriedly, almost as if he was trying to prove his point to Dean.

"Well….we don't fight because of you…we fight about you…sometimes….it's just cause we were worried about you. Dad and Bobby were really worried and angry about what happened and they wanted to blame someone. Both of them saw failure in the other and they butted heads. That's all it was Sammy. Nothing more. They'll be alright. They always are." Dean said.

Sam shook his head.

"But what about you and Dad….you always fight and are always yelling or not talking to each other….I hate it" Sam muttered.

Dean sighed, tilting his head to one side.

"Well…..its tricky to explain Sammy. Especially to you….cause you're so little. It just happens…..I suppose when you get to my age….hopefully you'll fight less with Dad. And you'll just accept what he does and get along. But….then…I'm going through a little period of rebellion and I can't help it. But…It's not your fault….it never is" Dean said, ruffling his hair softly.

Sam gave him a shifty look before returning to his fiddling with his shirt.

"You're supposed to say that…..you're my big brother" Sam muttered angrily.

Dean could see that this was going to take a while, so he decided to get comfortable. He shifted from his knees to a sitting position where he crossed his legs and set Woobie down in his lap.

"Come here" he said, gently patting his lap.

Sam crawled over and nestled deeply into the small ditch that Dean's long legs made. Dean then handed Woobie back to Sam and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, before gently resting his chin on the top of Sam's soft hair.

"You know that I don't have to. Didn't we already have this conversation a few weeks ago….when Joey bullied you." Dean said.

Sam squirmed slightly in his lap, before huffing again and puffing his little chest out.

"This is different" he claimed.

"How?" Dean asked curiously, interested in Sam's possible logic.

Sam twisted in his lap and looked up at him with huge puppy dog eyes.

"I'm not being bullied by anyone…..you and Daddy are fighting because of me…..there not the same." Sam said, forgetting about the main point of argument.

It made Dean chuckle at this and Sammy frowned.

"Did I do something funny?" he asked.

Dean shook his head and laughed again.

"No kiddo….just….you gotta believe that this isn't your fault….that you're too young to be causing any of this. You have to understand that." Dean said softly.

He felt Sammy relax slightly, his mentality was usually to listen and believe Dean. He was being convinced that Dean was right.

"Dean! Finish the Washing up!" John's gruff voice sounded in the other room and Dean groaned.

"Friggin….why can't he get off his ass and do it" Dean muttered angrily.

"Don't" Sam said softly.

"Huh?" Dean asked, bending around to see Sammy close to tears again.

"Don't fight with him…please….I don't like it when you fight….it makes me sad….please Dean….for me?" Sam asked, rubbing at his eyes.

It was a little overwhelming to see his little brother so torn up about the fact that he and his father fought. Sam didn't cry about too much, he mainly cried about something that was painful, terrifying or close to his heart. This was close to his heart.

Dean sighed, remembering his outburst at Sam a week and a few days ago. When this whole thing had started, how he'd snapped at Sam and made him cry.

He instantly felt like a failure that was drowning in his own guilt.

"Alright…..I won't fight with him….promise" Dean said softly, hiding the crack in his voice.

With that statement, Sammy grinned childishly and looked down at Woobie in his hands.

"In that case, could I have my blanket back?" Sam asked, reaching out to him.

Yet Dean, a cunning idea forming in his mind, shied away from his touch.

"Erm….I think you'll remember that this was originally my blanket. And I think I will be taking it back now" Dean said as he got to his feet.

Sam seemed to freeze for a second, staring at Dean with something resembling contempt and the shock that came with the statement. It was hard for the 8 year old to swallow that the 12 year old brother was taking back his blanket that he had given to Sam 4 years ago.

That was not on.

"Give it back!" Sam cried, jumping to his feet.

He made wild swipes for the tattered old blanket, but Dean simply held it up above his head and grinned wolfishly.

"Like I said before. You'll have to catch me if you want it back" Dean said and then, bolted to the door, opened it in one swift motion and shot out of Sam's room.

He passed a bemused looking father and opened the front door, running off down the second floor balcony.

He heard the giggles and slapping of Sam's bare feet on the concrete behind him and laughed to himself. This was what real brothers did. Or its what Dean and Sam did.

They had simple fun.

Nothing bothered their simple fun and Dean was cautious about Sammy's stitches, but Sam was still laughing, so Dean kept going.

Seeing that he was running out of spaces to flee to, Dean shot off down the stairs and into the car park. He skirted the edge of the lot and ran around to the grass park side of the motel where he slowed to a jog.

Yet upon turning around, Dean found that there was no Sammy in sight. Sam wasn't following him.

And from the looks of things, Sam was gone.

Dean cast his gaze around, a little concerned that Sam had disappeared. It was all that the small family needed right now.

His laughter quietened and he continued to walk backwards.

Where, he promptly tripped over Sam's little leg.

He landed on his back on the ground and Sam plucked the blanket from his grip. Giving Dean a little smile in the process.

"Thank you" he said, smirking.

Dean couldn't help but laugh. Sam had managed to get around behind him and trip him up. The kid would be an excellent hunter if he could sneak up on Dean.

"Yeah well….I wasn't looking….." Dean chuckled as he got to his feet again.

"Doesn't matter if you were looking or you weren't. Monsters won't wait for you to look before they eat you" Sam said matter of factly.

Dean shrugged at the little kid and began to walk back to the house.

"Come on, Dad will be wondering what we are doing" Dean said as he took Sam's little hand to lead him across the darkening park.

By the time they got back to their motel room, their father was on the phone.

Both of them peered curiously at him before John turned to them and held out a pre written message.

'_Sam, go take a bath. Dean, finish the washing.' _

Dean nodded dutifully and shooed Sam off to get his clothes.

"Yep…okay…sure. Thanks dude…..yeah we'll swing by real soon. Okay….see you later" John said and then hung the phone back on the hook.

Dean followed the movements with his eyes and cast his father a quizzical look.

"That was Bobby." John said simply.

Relief filled Dean like a tidal wave.

So the old crook hadn't completely washed his hands of them.

"What did he say?" Dean asked, hiding his happiness by returning to the washing.

"He said sorry and wanted to know if Sammy was alright" John said, sitting down at his journal again.

That was a very good thing to Dean. Hunters rarely ever said sorry to anyone and if they did, it was one of the best outcomes.

"We'll be going to see him some time tomorrow" John said.

But before Dean could reply, Sam appeared in the doorway.

"Dee-Dee! I'm ready!!" Sammy called, his pyjamas in his little arms and a small rubber duck set on top of them.

Dean chuckled to himself.

"I'll go and bathe Sammy and then come and finish this" Dean said and he dried his hands.

John looked up and then at the dishes.

"Don't worry about them. I'll finish it for ya" John said as he stood up.

"You will?" Dean asked, confused that his father was offering help.

"So you can take your time washing Sam. He needs to be looked after in that tub with all those stitches." John said.

"Yes sir" Dean responded and turned to Sam.

"Oh. And You might wanna tell Sammy where we are going tomorrow. I think he'll be happy about it….almost as happy as you are Dean" John said wisely.

Dean smirked and nodded.

"Yes sir. Come on Sammy. I have a story to tell you. When you are in the tub" Dean said as he ushered him down the hall.

"What is it!? Will I like it?!" Sam asked quickly as he gazed up at Dean.

The eldest smiled and nodded slightly, looking down into the liquid hazel eyes of his sibling.

"You're gonna love it" Dean said as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

THE END

* * *

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. It's over! No more...Sammy and Dee Dee are finished. Should I do more? Or should I stop right there. I wanna thank you all. Cause you made it worth it all. Thank you all. And make sure that you leave the finaly review! 


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